


We Found the Stars

by Sabeley



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Even Bech Næsheim, Bottom Isak Valtersen, Come Eating, First Time, M/M, Massage, Masturbation, Mild Somnophilia, Mutual Masturbation, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Versatile Evak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-24 15:20:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 39,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12015531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sabeley/pseuds/Sabeley
Summary: Each year, Isak's father, a world renowned screenwriter, invites one promising young filmmaker to spend the summer in Italy with him and his family. It had never been anything more than a nuisance to Isak—until the arrival of Even Bech Næsheim. Suddenly, Isak finds himself drawn into a whirlwind summer romance that will change his life forever.Or a modernCall Me by Your NameAU *insert peach emoji here*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic is based off of the amazing book _Call My by Your Name_ by André Aciman and it's the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written. If you are a fan of the book and are looking for prose to match the original, you are most certainly not going to find it here because that shit is way beyond my capabilities. What you will find here is gratuitous amounts of porn and a much happier ending. I've certainly taken some liberties with the source material, picking and choosing the parts that I liked best and cutting out the rest while also adding scenes of my own creation, but I've tried to keep the overall spirit of the novel intact. Blanket warning for all book spoilers, but you can certainly read this without having read the book first. I don't know how much interest there is for this particular AU, especially since the original is so beloved, but I needed to fuel my excitement for the movie into something and then this happened. Hope you enjoy!

_______________ 

“We had found the stars, you and I. And that is given once only.” –André Aciman, _Call Me by Your Name_

_______________ 

As soon as the man stepped out of the cab, all long legs and sandy blonde hair billowing in the salty summer breeze, Isak knew he was going to be trouble. He’d suspected as much even a year before as he sat with his father sorting through the pictures of potential candidates for his six-week summer residency program, but the still photograph hadn’t done justice to his ice blue eyes or the hard lines of his body. Isak had chosen him because he figured, if nothing else, he would be nice to look at. He hadn’t anticipated the way his body would come alive at the sight of him, as if he had been dead until that very moment, but now something primal had been awakened inside of him. 

“Hello,” the man said, catching sight of him just as he slung what looked to be a very heavy duffle bag over his shoulder. He threw out a hand in greeting. “Even Bech Næsheim. Nice to meet you.” 

Isak shook his hand absently and had already pulled his own back to his side before Even’s expectant gaze reminded him that he was supposed to be introducing himself. “Oh,” he muttered, shaking his head at his own stupidity. “Isak. Isak Valtersen.” He almost wished he’d missed the way Even’s eyes trailed down his half-naked body, but he didn’t. He could feel his eyes against his skin like a brand and he wanted to simultaneously pull away from it and run full force into the fire. Feeling suddenly naked, Isak threw the towel he had brought with him for his impromptu beach trip over his shoulders so it would provide some semblance of modesty. 

“Valtersen,” Even mused, his gaze finally coming to rest on Isak's eyes once more. “You the professor’s kid?” 

Isak huffed his displeasure at the nickname. “I prefer Isak.” 

“Isak, then,” Even chuckled, pulling his bag a little higher onto his shoulder. “Now, come on, _Isak_. You going to show me around or what?” 

Isak’s eyes widened at the sheer audacity of the request. “I was on my way to the beach,” he pointed out, but Even just shrugged. 

“Beach isn’t going anywhere. I, however, am only here for six weeks.” 

“And what makes you think I give a shit how long you’re here for?” he asked petulantly, crossing his arms over the towel covering his chest. Even’s eyes racked his body once more and this time Isak couldn’t help but shiver. 

“Just a feeling,” he replied, his voice heavy with intent, and then, after a very pregnant pause during which Isak’s heart started galloping forward in his chest, turned towards the house at the end of the gravel drive. “Come on. We’ll start in there so I can put my things down.” Isak would have been annoyed if the order had come from anyone else, but it sounded more playful than condescending, and Even threw a wink over his shoulder that Isak was helpless to resist. He followed him like a lost puppy. 

Isak, determined to regain some modicum of control over the situation, zoomed past Even so that he was the one leading him up the front steps. When they got to the top, he pulled open the door, ushered Even in, and waited. Sure enough, just like every guest before him, Even froze in the entryway and stared. The villa had long ago lost its charm for Isak, but he knew that the guests loved the timeless quality of it—that it felt like they had traveled not only to another place, but another time as well. 

Isak had given so many tours of the villa that he was practically an expert at it. He waited the requisite thirty seconds for Even to take in the foyer with its golden-colored stucco walls and high, wood-beamed ceilings, and then he pushed himself off of the stairs where he’d been leaning and kept walking. “This way,” he said, startling Even out of his reverie. “Your room’s down here.” 

This time, it was Even that followed him. 

When they passed the library, Isak stuck his head in and, finding his father buried nose-deep in a book at his desk, figured it was as good a time as any to introduce him to his new protégé. He was severely lamenting that decision when he was still standing in the corner fifteen minutes later, listening as the two of them fawned over each other. _I could be at the fucking beach right now,_ he thought, _but no._ He couldn’t deny, however, that Even was awfully cute when he was excited. He was practically bouncing on his feet with unbridled energy, talking lightning fast about the screenplay he had dedicated his summer to writing. 

Isak couldn’t help but smile smugly from his spot across the room, realizing that all of the suave confidence Even had exuded earlier was clearly an act. When Even eventually paused his diatribe and chanced a look at him, his cheeks immediately flamed red and he stopped talking abruptly. 

“Nerd,” Isak mouthed, shaking his head like he was disappointed. Even blushed darker and turned his attention back to Isak’s father, who seemed to be taking advantage of the moment of silence to gather his things. 

“It is such a pleasure to meet you, Even. Isak, you’ll help him get settled? Tell him about mealtimes and such?” Isak nodded obediently. “Well then I’ll see you both in a few hours for dinner. Even, anything you need, you let us know, okay?” 

“Yes, of course,” Even enthused and Isak couldn’t help but chuckle behind him. “Thank you so much.” 

Isak’s father clapped him on the shoulder and then left the room, probably to find somewhere that he could read in peace. “Wow,” Isak teased when he was finally gone. “He’s a university professor, not Justin Bieber.” He didn’t say that Even’s reaction had been tamer than most—no need to give him that kind of leverage. 

Even sputtered indignantly. “Your father is _not_ just a university professor. He is a genius. He—” 

“Stop talking,” Isak interrupted with a headshake, making his way into the hall once more. He threw a glance over his shoulder and asked, “Do you want to see the rest of the house or not?” 

Even heaved a long-suffering sigh, like he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to go anywhere with Isak just yet, but he picked up his discarded bag and fell into step beside him nevertheless. 

Isak pointed out the important rooms as they came to them: the kitchen, the dining room, the living area. When they finally made it to the very back of the house, he paused in front of the door that he usually called his own and pushed it open with a small sigh. “And this is you,” he said, trying not to sound too put out by it. Even stepped inside eagerly, dropping his bag to the floor as he took in the king-sized bed dressed in crisp white linens and the sunlight streaming through the glass doors leading to the balcony, making everything seem almost ethereal. 

“This is the guest room?” Even asked in awe, stepping up to the windows so he could look out onto the garden overflowing with summer foliage. Even though the balcony doors weren’t open, Isak swore he could smell flowers permeating the air around them. 

“It’s my room,” Isak corrected, not seeing any reason to lie. They always found out eventually. Even turned to him, eyebrows furrowed, and opened his mouth to argue. “And, no, they won’t let us trade back, so just enjoy it while you can.” After a brief pause, Even closed his mouth and smirked, letting the topic drop. 

“What’s out here?” he asked, already fiddling with the doors to the balcony. He got them open easily enough and stepped outside, Isak trailing along behind him. He watched as Even stepped to the very edge of the balcony and inhaled deeply, breathing in the fragrances that Isak had only imagined earlier. 

“Not much,” Isak said, pausing in the doorway. He pointed to the small wrought iron table and chairs sitting in the corner. “You can come out here to read if you want. Or smoke. Whatever.” He had no idea if Even smoked, but he thought he might like to watch him if he did. 

Even nodded along to his suggestions. “And whose room is that?” he asked, gesturing over to the other set of doors leading out onto the small terrace. Isak swallowed hard and hoped he sounded nonchalant as he answered. 

“Mine.” He tried not to think about how when Even went to bed that night, they would be lying against the same wall, only centimeters between them. 

“Hm,” Even mused, staring at the doors to Isak’s room like they might hold secrets he had been looking desperately for. Then, he returned Isak’s gaze with a smile. “What else?” 

Isak showed him the pool in the backyard and skirted the rest of the grounds as well, pointing out which way he would go to get to the beach and which way he would go to head into town. 

“There’s not much to do around here,” Isak warned after finishing his brief tour. “It’s basically either eat, swim, or fuck—take your pick.” He looked up at Even, trying to gauge his reaction, but the older boy gave nothing away, just stared down the road towards the city, like he had been transfixed by it. “We could go if you want,” Isak added, noticing his interest. “I could show you around and we could grab an ice cream or something,” He tried to make it sound like an offhand suggestion, but anticipation was bubbling in his gut so hard he was almost sick with it. No one had ever affected him in this way before—not so fast. All he wanted was to get to know Even better. 

Even, however, didn’t seem to share that desire. “Maybe later,” he said, finally turning away from the road to look at Isak. “I’m still tired from my flight. I think I’ll lay down for a bit until dinner.” Then, without another word, he trudged back to the house, leaving Isak alone at the road. And even though he was still in his swimsuit, he found that he no longer wanted to go to the beach, not if it meant leaving Even behind. 

* 

It took no time at all for the Valtersens to fall in love with Even. Isak’s mom would tell anyone who would listen—the neighbors with daughters Even's age, mostly—how polite he was, how affable. And he was—to everyone that wasn't Isak. He insisted on fixing Marianne's plate every morning at breakfast, reminding her that she was the host and he was the guest, and even though he was only required to help Isak's father for an hour each day, Isak often caught him working longer, talking about movies and cinematography well into the afternoon, soaking up knowledge from the master like few before him had ever bothered. Terje was calling him a genius within a week. "His mind is so unique. The way he thinks—it's remarkable, Isak, really. You should sit down with him. Pick his brain. He used to teach at a university, you know? Before he made his first film. He might be able to tell you what you could expect when you head off in the fall. I'm so out of touch with my students these days, I wouldn't even know where to start." 

To Isak, however, Even was different. Their summer houseguests usually interacted with him in one of two ways. They would either ignore him completely or treat him like a kid brother—old enough to hang around with, but too young to build a relationship of any substance. Isak always felt like a child next to his father's students. 

Even made him feel anything but childish. 

There were the heated looks that hadn't stopped since that first day, no matter how hard Even tried to hide them, but it was more than that. It was the way he actually listened when Isak spoke, like he inherently understood that he had something important to say. Isak grew so addicted to the way Even would watch, enraptured, as he talked, that he started speaking up at dinner more. The conversation was usually fairly academic, but that didn't stop him from barging in with his own opinions, even if they had no basis in fact. 

"All I'm saying," he said, concluding a ten minute argument he'd started when Even and his father went off on a tangent about poetry. "Is that I couldn't name a single modern poet. Except for maybe Robert Frost—" 

"Robert Frost died in the 1960s," Even interrupted, but Isak just kept talking, hoping Even realized that he had just proved his fucking point. 

"No one reads poetry anymore! When people study our culture years from now, they shouldn't study poetry because that hasn't shaped modern society in the least." 

"Well then what should they study instead?" Even asked. He was wheedling, like Isak’s father would sometimes when he was fishing for an answer, but there was a small, amused smile on his face that filled Isak with warmth. 

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Music or something. At least people actually listen to music." 

"Just because _you_ don't read poetry, doesn't mean no one else does," Terje corrected, gesturing at Isak with a piece of chicken speared to his fork. 

Isak already had his mouth open to say that society shouldn't be judged by the hobbies of men with doctoral degrees when Even asked another question. 

"And what music would you have posterity judge us by?" 

"I don't know," Isak repeated. He hadn't anticipated having to come up with a whole curriculum on the spot. "Something good. Like Nas's _Ilmatic_." He watched Even closely for a reaction and didn't miss the way his eyes lit up, even if only for a second. He didn't provide any further commentary, but that small smile stayed on his face for the rest of dinner. 

"Eat your peas, Isak," Terje said, effectively ending the conversation. "You don't know what you're talking about." 

* 

Even spent his mornings editing his work from the day before by the pool. It wasn't exactly practical—Isak was sure his screenplay would be water-stained and smell of suntan lotion by the end of the summer—but it seemed to make him happy. He would lie there in only his swim trunks, skin darkening under the mid-morning sun, and although Isak typically didn't like to waste his days by the pool, he found himself joining him more often than not. The view alone was worth it. If his family thought anything of his newfound interest in lounging poolside, they didn’t say anything. 

They didn't talk much during their time at the pool—Isak respected that Even was in Italy to work and entertaining a teenager probably wasn't high on his priority list—but still, he felt that they were growing closer, like maybe their proximity alone was enough for their skin to absorb the taste of the other on the air. 

What he _did_ do was watch. He watched the muscles in Even's shoulders flex as he lay on his stomach, writing in a notebook, his skin coated in a light sheen of sweat from the muggy heat. He watched his tongue poke out of his mouth when he was concentrating on something. He watched his swim trunks ride up when he re-situated himself and he watched as Even didn't bother to pull them back down, just let Isak stare at the pale skin of his thighs that the material exposed. 

He wasn't sure if Even ever noticed him watching (he tried to be stealthy when he could), but sometimes, when looking at the planes of his body got to be too much—imagining what they would feel like under him, pressed against him, _inside_ of him—and he had to dive into the water to cool himself off, Even would look at him with a smug smile, like he knew exactly what Isak was trying to cover up. 

Being close to him was simultaneously the best and the worst kind of torture and he couldn't escape it. Even was there at breakfast, cooing over his mother, hair a mess and body still sleep-soft. He was there at the pool, his tanned skin on full display. He was at lunch and dinner and when Isak went to bed at night, he was there too, just on the other side of the wall. If Isak listened closely enough, he could hear his breathing coming from the next room, but far from lulling him to sleep, it energized him like a shot of espresso. Every breath was like a gentle caress against his body, every crinkle of the sheets, a kiss. 

He really tried not to get aroused by the sound of another man sleeping, but it had been a while since anyone had affected him so much and he ended up bringing himself to orgasm almost every night with Even's name on his lips. If sometimes he heard the breath on the other side of the wall hitch just as he reached his climax, he convinced himself that he had imagined it. 

* 

Since Isak was determined not to walk around with a perpetual boner for the entire six weeks Even was staying with them (chaffing was a very real concern at this point), he started trying to channel his sexual frustration into other activities. As a child, he'd taken up running to help clear his head when his thoughts starting racing too quickly. He picked the hobby up again now, sneaking out of his bedroom before breakfast and running until his lungs felt like they would burst. 

It was on one of these mornings, when his tank top was coated in sweat and his heartbeat sounded louder than the rap music blasting in his ears, that he ran into Even running in the opposite direction along a dirt road on the outskirts of their property. He was shirtless and although that was something Isak had gotten used to over the past couple of weeks, it didn't make the sight of his lean muscles glistening with sweat any less arousing. 

And there went the one healthy outlet for his sexual frustration. 

He slowed his running and came to a stop on the side of the road, tearing his headphones out as Even did the same. "I didn't know you ran," he said, gasping for breath. He didn't mean for it to sound like an accusation, but he was pretty sure it did. 

Even chuckled as he unscrewed the cap of the water bottle he had brought with him, taking a large gulp. "Am I not allowed to? I can stick to swimming if that would be better for you." 

Fuck, he'd been _swimming_? Isak could have easily spied on him from the balcony outside his room. He cursed the universe for the missed opportunity. 

"No, it's fine," he relented. "I just wasn't expecting to see you, that's all." 

Even gave him a half smile and then paused to take in their surroundings. "I'm not even sure where I'm going," he admitted after a minute. "I've been running up and down this road for a few days now, but it's getting a bit boring." Then he looked up expectantly, like maybe Isak had a solution for him. 

And even though Isak was just finishing his run while Even was just starting his, he couldn't let another opportunity pass him by. "I usually run down the path to the lake. It's prettier back there—more shaded. I could show you." 

"You wouldn't mind?" Even asked, sounding just as excited as Isak felt. Suddenly energized, Isak shook his head. 

"Not if you can keep up." He turned and sprinted down the path in front of him, hoping that Even would follow. He heard a laugh behind him and then the sound of dirt being kicked up as he took off running. Isak's muscles were already fatigued from earlier, but he didn't dare slow until Even was running along right beside him. 

"Damn, you're fast," Even huffed out a laugh, slowing to match Isak’s more leisurely pace. 

"Maybe you're just old," Isak teased, but immediately regretted it as the smile on Even's face faded. 

"Maybe I am," he said, but there was a weight to it that spoke of words left unsaid. 

Isak looked over at him, at the way his muscles seemed to move so effortlessly even straining under the weight of his long limbs, at the way his damp hair was sticking to his scalp, at the way the skin on his shoulders was turning a faint pink under the sunlight. “No, you’re not old,” Isak corrected, trying to make it sound casual, like he was brushing off a joke, not trying to rectify an obtuse comment that could damn any potential there might have been for hooking up with him at some point. “If you’re old, I’m old. We’re practically the same age.” 

“Isak,” Even drawled, “we’re seven years apart.” And the way he said it, so patronizing, made Isak feel each of those seven years like a stab to the gut. The sudden need to escape that particular conversation came over him and he picked up his speed, irrationally pleased to hear Even’s grunt of frustration as he left him behind. 

“Last one to the lake loses,” Isak called over his shoulder and then he was running, letting the wind he created as he sped up cool his flushed skin. 

The lake wasn’t far and the run through the countryside really was enjoyable, but Even didn’t bother stopping to observe the scenery, which placed Isak at a severe disadvantage—both because Even’s legs were the longest he had seen, probably ever, and because his own felt like they were about to collapse from exhaustion. 

Even made it to the lake first with Isak right behind him and when they reached the shore, they both kept running until they were half-submerged under the water, laughing and splashing each other to help soothe their sore muscles. 

“It’s so hot here,” Even complained, sinking under the water completely so that he could wet his hair. When he floated back to the surface, there were water droplets clinging to his eyelashes and Isak was hypnotized. 

“I wish I could say you get used to it, but you don’t,” he said, his chest still heaving. Even laughed. 

“It’s beautiful here though,” he mused, looking around at the trees surrounding the lake, some ripe with fruit, others gnarled with age but no less beautiful for it. “You’re lucky you get to live here—even if it is just for the summer.” 

Although Isak had never felt particularly lucky before, he had to admit that floating in the cool lake water with Even next to him, never touching but close enough to feel nevertheless, he was starting to think that he might be right. 

* 

Once they were cooled off, the two boys climbed out of the water and sunbathed on the lakeshore until the summer sun had dried their clothes. Then, both moving sluggishly as their muscles tensed up after the run, they started the slow trudge back to the house. It was the longest they had ever been alone together, but the conversation flowed easily. Even asked him about his plans for the fall and seemed surprised when Isak told him he was pre-med. 

“What?” Isak snapped, but he couldn’t help but smile at the way Even blushed. “You don’t think I can do it?” 

“That’s not what I said!” Even cried, raising his hands in innocence. “I just figured that with your dad—” 

“You thought I would be some pretentious art snob like you?” 

“No, Isak,” Even assured him. “I haven’t deluded myself into thinking you’re anything like me at all.” Isak wasn’t sure if that was meant to be a good thing or a bad thing, but he sounded sad as he spoke of it, so Isak changed the subject to the screenplay he was writing. 

“Will you let me read it?” he asked, feeling almost shy at the inquiry, like he was asking for something far more personal than just a sheet of paper. Even thought long and hard before responding, like he understood the gravity of it as well. 

“I would like that, actually,” he finally said. “I could use a second set of eyes.” 

It was like a flutter of butterflies had been set loose in Isak’s stomach and he suddenly felt lighter than air. “What about your other movie?” he asked when he felt that he could speak without his voice cracking in excitement. Even looked over at him curiously. “Your first one. Where can I watch it?” 

Since Even still wasn’t wearing a shirt, Isak could clearly see his chest jut out with pride. “You want to see it?” He sounded so surprised that Isak couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Of course I want to see it.” 

Even nodded and then looked up, like he was searching for the answer to some unasked question in the sky. As he was doing that, Isak reached out and grabbed Even’s still half-full water bottle out of his hand because he had finished his own before he’d ever met Even on the road. Even relinquished it without question. 

“There’s a showing in Rome at the end of the month,” he finally said, like it had taken him that long to work out some complicated calculation in his head. “Do you think your father would let you come with me?” 

The honest answer was yes—Isak’s father had never once balked at an opportunity for Isak to learn something new—but he didn’t want Even to think he needed his father’s permission. “I’m an adult, Even,” he reminded him because he was concerned that he might have forgotten. “If I want to go to Rome with you, I’ll go to Rome with you.” Even looked down at him and nodded, but there was something dark behind his eyes that Isak couldn’t quite place. “You might want to rescind your offer though,” he added, trying to lighten the mood. “You may be sick of me by then.” 

Even didn’t smile, just shook his head. “No,” he said and he sounded so sure that Isak’s heart leapt in his chest. “I don’t think that’s possible.” Isak took a long gulp of water to hide his smile, but it wasn’t until they were back home that it faded completely. 

“Hey, Isak?” Even asked once they had reached their separate bedrooms. Isak’s hand froze on the doorknob and he turned to Even, curious. “I think I'll take you up on that ice cream now, if you want. Maybe this afternoon?” 

It took Isak a second to recall his offer to take Even into town for ice cream on his very first day there, but when the memory came back to him, he nodded, probably a bit too enthusiastically. “Yeah, of course. I know the perfect place.” 

* 

While Even had been to town before—mainly on business for Isak’s father—he had never actually been there with a local (if Isak could even be considered a local when he only spent three months out of the year there), so Isak steered him out of the main piazza and down several winding streets until they got to an area of town that was less congested with tourists. 

Isak pointed out a few of the places he thought Even might like as they walked, wheeling their bicycles along beside them: an old bookstore that his father had dragged him to more times than he could count, a small café that served the best coffee within a hundred miles, and a bar. 

“Just in case you get tired of the eating and the swimming and want a fuck,” Isak joked, but Even didn’t laugh. 

They ended up sitting at a wrought iron table outside of a gelateria on the far side of town, each holding a waffle cone piled high with ice cream. 

“This is really good,” Even admitted, like he was somehow surprised. Isak smiled and watched as he licked up the side of the cone to chase away the melting ice cream before it reached his fingers. Isak tried to ignore the way his shorts suddenly felt a bit too tight. 

“You got vanilla,” Isak said for probably the fifth time, still appalled by the choice. “Imagine how good it would be if you had actually tried one of the good flavors.” 

“Hey!” Even laughed. “I like vanilla!” 

Isak snorted and took a very pointed lick of his own chocolate-hazelnut-strawberry concoction. “You only like vanilla because you’ve never tried anything else. You’re like the kid who doesn’t realize he needs glasses until he puts them on and sees that trees aren’t just giant green blobs.” 

Even shook his head, obviously confused by the metaphor. “Just try this,” Isak snapped, holding his cone out for Even to taste. Even stared down at it in surprise for several seconds and when it finally hit Isak just what he was offering, he almost pulled his hand back altogether. Why did the thought of sharing an ice cream cone suddenly seem so intimate? 

Before he could second guess himself, however, Even had reached out and placed his own sticky fingers on top of Isak’s, closing his lips around the ice cream and twirling his tongue along the edges before finally pulling away, like he was sucking a fucking dick or something. He watched Isak carefully the whole time and it took everything in him not to squirm under his gaze. 

And, yeah, in hindsight, ice cream hadn’t been the best idea he’d ever had. 

Even closed his eyes and hummed in pleasure. “Good?” Isak asked, his voice wobbling a bit as he spoke. He coughed and tried to brush it off as nothing more than a scratch in his throat. 

Even nodded. “I think you might be on to something.” 

“Fuck yeah I am!” Isak crowed in delight. “I’ll order for you next time.” 

“Okay,” Even agreed and Isak reveled at the insinuation that there _would_ be a next time. Even then went back to his boring vanilla ice cream, but he didn’t seem to find as much pleasure in it this time around. 

“What’s wrong?” Isak taunted, taking another large lick from his own cone. “Taste a little _plain_ in comparison?” 

Even looked down at his ice cream like it had personally betrayed him. “It tastes like a giant green blob,” he said and Isak laughed so hard he almost toppled his already precariously balanced cone. Even took it from him to keep that from happening, but Isak didn’t miss how he stole a few more licks before Isak composed himself. 

“Here,” he said when he finally felt like he could hold his ice cream again, but he didn’t reach for his own cone. Instead, he grabbed the vanilla. Even, who had just taken a large bite of chocolate, voiced some argument that Isak couldn’t understand while his mouth was full, but Isak just brushed him off. “Seriously, it’s fine. I’m flattered, actually. Usually my dad’s students don’t like to admit that they’re wrong.” 

Even swallowed the ice cream in his mouth and winced at the sudden brain freeze. Isak expected him to put up more of a fight, but he just shrugged, staring down at Isak’s cone like it was the most beautiful thing in the universe. “Well, if you insist,” he said and then dived back in with probably more enthusiasm than the situation warranted, but Isak wasn’t about to complain. It was quite a show. 

* 

Isak lay in bed that night with his balcony doors open, letting the summer breeze wash into his room to cool his flushed skin. He wasn't sure why he did it—he never could sleep well with the door open, not with the crickets chirping and the wind blowing his curtains like a ghost in the night—but there was a part of him that hoped maybe Even would see it and take it as an invitation. _Come to me, lie beside me, rest your head on my pillow, and breathe in the scent of the two of us together._

There was another part of him—the part that had his stomach tied into knots of anxious anticipation—that didn't think he was ready for that at all. 

It took a long time for him to fall asleep due to both the worry and the fact that he couldn't hear Even's steady breathing over the sounds of the night outside. And as he floated in the space between reality and dreams, he could have sworn he saw a dark figure hovering in the doorway, watching him sleep, but come morning, he didn't remember that at all. 

* 

When Isak stepped outside to run the next day, Even was already waiting for him with two water bottles in hand. Thankfully, he was wearing a shirt this time. Isak grabbed the bottle offered to him and they took off without a word. 

It became a thing, the running—Even didn't come with him every day, but he came more often than he didn't—and although talking wasn't the easiest thing to do while running long distances in the heat, there was something about the endorphins they shared on those morning runs that brought them closer together. 

"I thought I was in shape until I met you," Even huffed after one such run a week later. They had just made it back to the house and were strolling leisurely through the yard, both gulping down the last of their water. 

Isak laughed. "You keep up just fine." 

"You’re not taking it easy on me?" he asked, like it was a genuine concern. Isak wasn't sure how he hadn't realized by now that all Isak ever did was show off for him. 

"I'm not going easy on you, I promise,” he assured him. “If I ran any faster than that, I think it might kill me." Even nodded, like that answer, at least, pleased him, and held open the gate to the pool area so that Isak could walk through. He immediately collapsed into the nearest lounge chair and threw his arms over his eyes to block out the sun. 

“Your bedroom is literally a hundred yards away,” Even pointed out, but despite that, Isak heard him sit down in the chair next to his. 

“Too far,” Isak argued, adjusting his arms a bit so that he could look over at him. Even’s cheeks were still flushed from their run and he looked delicious sitting there, coated in sweat. Isak had the sudden, overwhelming urge to _taste_. He pulled his arm back over his eyes because, nope, getting hard right now was not an option. “Plus, I’m debating jumping into the pool to cool myself off before I shower.” 

“I might join you,” Even mused after a minute and although Isak _knew_ he was talking about the pool—not the shower—he couldn’t help but smirk. 

“Yeah?” he asked, throwing his sore legs over the side of the lounge chair so that he could sit. He didn’t even realize he had winced at the movement until Even spoke. 

“Are you okay?” 

It took Isak a second to realize what he was talking about. “Oh, yeah,” he said, trying to rub a knot out of his thigh. “Just sore. I’m not used to running every day.” 

Even pursed his lips in confusion. “You’ve run pretty much every day since I’ve been here.” It didn’t even occur to Isak to ask how he knew that. 

“Yeah, I just picked it back up recently,” he admitted. _It was either this or death by masturbation._ He was starting to think he’d made the wrong choice because seeing Even all hot and bothered after their runs was having the exact opposite effect on his libido. 

“Here, lay back down,” Even ordered, moving across the space between them to sit on the edge of Isak’s chair. Isak was so confused by what was happening, he did as asked without question, pulling his legs back onto the chair. 

“Why?” he asked warily. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m going to make you feel better,” he said simply, smiling down at Isak. He wondered, not for the first time, if Even said things like that on purpose, or if he was just so tragically straight that he didn’t even understand the implications behind his words. “One of my exes was a massage therapist,” he continued. “They weren’t good for much, but I did learn how to give a fucking fantastic massage. Can I?” 

Isak wasn’t 100% positive, but he thought Even might be asking permission to touch him, skin to skin, and despite the hesitations he sometimes felt lying in bed at night, waiting for Even to show up in his room unannounced, he found that when presented with the choice to either have Even touch him or not have Even touch him, he would choose the former every time. 

“Um, sure,” he said. His voice sounded surprisingly normal considering that his heart was now racing faster than it had on their run earlier. Even’s whole face lit up at Isak’s words and before Isak even had a chance to question what was about to happen, Even reached out and wrapped his hands around the calf of Isak’s left leg, using his fingers to dig into the skin and work out the knots in his weary muscles. Isak wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. He thought Even was going to get him to turn around—work out the kinks in his neck or something—but this? This felt fucking fantastic. 

Isak let out an almost inhuman moan at Even’s touch and dropped his head against the back of the lounge chair. Even huffed out a laugh. “Good?” he asked and he sounded so pleased with himself that Isak didn’t have the heart to argue. He just nodded. Every press of Even’s fingers had Isak relaxing into him a bit more until his body was soft and pliant beneath his touch. 

It wasn’t until his hands crept up to Isak’s thigh that the gravity of what they were doing hit him. Suddenly, Even’s touch felt like fire against his skin and it quickly consumed him. Isak’s breath hitched in his throat and he found that he was too shy to look Even in the eyes, so he watched his hands instead as they raked across his muscles, his fingers digging in, forcing Isak’s body into submission. 

He kneaded the muscles of Isak’s thigh slowly—much slower than he had done with his calf (or at least he thought so). Isak imagined that there were probably ways to give a friendly massage, but as the tips of Even’s fingers drifted under the hem of his running shorts, he decided that this wasn’t it. This felt heavy in a way it wouldn’t if it were anyone but Even touching him. Isak squirmed a bit under his fingers, but Even didn’t stop. 

_Never stop_ , Isak thought. _Take what you want. I’ll give it happily_. 

Although Isak’s shorts weren’t particularly tight, it would have been impossible to hide how hard he was, so he didn’t even try. _Let him see me. Let him see the way my body reacts to his_. Emboldened, he lifted his gaze and was surprised to find Even staring back at him, his eyes dark with something that looked a lot like desire. 

“Good?” he asked again, his voice thicker this time, and Isak, once again, nodded. Even switched legs then, his arm brushing over Isak’s cock accidentally as he moved, causing Isak’s hips to jerk off of the lounge chair. Even acted as if he hadn’t seen it, but Isak knew he had because he watched in rapture as dark pink splotches appeared on his cheeks. As he resumed his ministrations, this time on Isak’s right thigh, Isak closed his eyes and just let himself enjoy it. 

He imagined that Even’s hands were only a precursor for what was to come. He imagined those same hands roving over every bare inch of his body, exploring his pale skin, tracing the lines of his freckles. He imagined them wrapped around his cock. He imagined them inside of him. 

Even was kneading his muscles rhythmically, in time to the beat of Isak’s heart, and as he pushed and pulled his hands back and forth over Isak’s skin, causing him to rock on the lounge chair, it felt a lot like getting fucked. He wondered if Even truly knew what he was willing to give in that moment. _Take me. You know I want this—you can see the evidence of it right in front of you. Take my mouth and my hands and my body and find your pleasure in them like I am finding mine in you._

With every swipe of Even’s hands, the pressure in Isak’s groin was building, like water against a dam. Isak held his breath, knowing that the water was about to break though and drown him, when suddenly— 

“Better?” Even asked, taking his hands away abruptly. It took Isak a second to get his bearings, but when he finally fluttered his eyes open, Even was already picking his water bottle off of the chair next to him and backing towards the house. 

“Um, yeah?” Isak said, not even sure what question had been asked in the first place. 

“Good, good, that’s good,” Even said, nodding, and Isak was pretty sure Even was more flustered than even he was (and he had been about a second away from coming in his pants only a few moments before). “I’m going to go shower, but I’ll see you at breakfast?” And then he was gone, leaving Isak sprawled out on the lounge chair, wondering if it had all been some sort of fever dream. 

He looked down at his lap, just to make sure his hard-on was still there, and found a wet spot coating the front of his gray cotton shorts. Isak let out a groan of frustration, bringing his knees up to his chest to hide the evidence—although that was fairly pointless since Even had already seen it, had already been _scared off_ by it. 

Isak wasn’t sure if it was a good thing, but if Even had any doubts before that his professor’s teenage son was lusting after him, he sure didn’t now. 

* 

Even was distant for the rest of the day, avoiding eye contact at meals and speaking only when spoken to. Isak watched him pick at his food and felt a simmering rage bubble up inside of him because he hadn’t asked for what Even gave him and he wouldn’t have accepted it if he knew this was what he would get in return. He didn’t know if he was embarrassed or ashamed or maybe just avoiding Isak to make sure he got the message, loud and clear, that he wasn’t interested. 

Well, message received, asshole. 

He was so pissed that when his alarm clock went off the next day, calling him to his daily run, he turned it off and went back to sleep. He didn’t think he could handle the disappointment of waiting for Even on the doorstep and not having him come. He was late for breakfast because of it, but that turned out to be a blessing in disguise because although Isak’s parents were still sitting at the table, Even had already left. 

“I think he went down to the pool,” Terje said when Isak inquired about him. He didn’t seem to find the question suspicious in any way, but Isak couldn’t be entirely sure because his face was hidden behind a large newspaper. He finished reading the page he was on before speaking again. “Bianca from nextdoor stopped by this morning, so I think they were going to relax out there for a bit.” 

Isak’s stomach dropped and he had to bite back a cry of frustration. _Not her again_. He had always liked Bianca—really, he had—but ever since Even showed up, she’d been near intolerable (Isak wasn’t yet able to admit to himself that the reason she was intolerable was that she was allowed to openly want the one thing he couldn’t have). Although Even never showed any particular affinity towards her, the summer was long and Isak knew it would only be a matter of time before he sought solace in someone else’s bed. 

He wanted to put on swim trunks and go outside to foil whatever plan she was trying to enact without him there to chaperone, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Had Even not shown him the day before just how much Isak’s desire bothered him? If he wanted to fuck Bianca, let him fuck Bianca. Isak didn’t care. (Except he did care. Quite a lot.) 

Something primal came over him then, a jealous need to mark his territory, and he found himself pushing open the door to his old bedroom for the first time since he’d helped Even move in on the day he arrived. He wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for until he opened the closet and found it. 

There, hanging on the inside of the door, was one of Even’s bathing suits. This one was a soft, sky blue, but the colors had faded so much that they were almost white in places. It was Even’s favorite—or at least Isak assumed it was his favorite because it fit a little tighter than the rest, suggesting that it had been bought long ago, before he could fill it out completely. He wore it more than his other ones and Isak knew, because he had watched him from the safety of their balcony, that he had worn it only the day before. He brought it to his nose and inhaled Even’s familiar musk accented with the sharp tang of suntan lotion. Good. It hadn’t been washed. 

Isak kept the fabric pressed to his nose as he walked to the bed, already palming himself through his pants. If he was going to do this here, in Even’s room, with all of the doors unlocked and the curtains wide open, he was going to have to make it fast. 

He threw himself back onto the bed and pushed his shorts down to his knees, stroking himself hard and fast as his heart rate began to speed up. He quickly realized, however, that Even’s scent alone was not enough. He didn’t want to just be surrounded by him. He wanted to be inside of him. He wanted to _be_ him. 

Once the idea took hold, he couldn’t shake it. He shucked his pants off entirely and pulled Even’s bathing suit on instead. Where it was really too small on Even, it fit Isak perfectly. 

The fabric didn’t stretch enough to allow Isak to stick his hand down the front and he couldn’t stand the thought of pushing it off altogether, so instead he flipped onto his stomach, shoved one of Even’s pillows underneath him, and started humping it mindlessly. 

His need to get off had never been this intense. It was animalistic, almost, in that he didn’t think he could stop even if he wanted to. Anyone could walk in the room right now—Even, his parents, his fucking priest—and still he would keep thrusting into the pillow, panting like a dog, chasing the phantom feel of Even’s fingers as they drifted under his shorts the day before. 

Isak came with a grunt, painting the inside of Even’s bathing suit with his come. It was only as his high faded and the wetness started to become uncomfortable, that he realized that was a problem. 

“Fuck!” he hissed, crawling off of the bed and pulling Even’s suit off simultaneously. A quick glance inside confirmed that, no, that was not going to be easy to clean. He slipped into his own pants first, figuring that being found half-naked in Even’s room wouldn’t help anything, and then straightened the blankets on the bed, blushing furiously as he replaced Even’s pillow, already imagining him falling asleep on top of something Isak had fucked the life out of. 

Promising that he would think more on that later, when he was alone and not at risk of getting caught, Isak grabbed a cloth out of the bathroom and cleaned what he could from Even’s suit. When he was done, he couldn’t see any traces of come left, but he selfishly hoped it was still there—a scent, a taste, _something_ —so that maybe Even would see it and maybe he would just _know_ that Isak had been there and staked his claim, even if no one was around to witness it. Or maybe it was enough that the next time Even wore that bathing suit, their essences would become one in the fabric and there, at least, they would be together. 

* 

Isak was awoken from a nap a few hours later by a knock at the door. He grumbled his dissent, hoping whoever it was would just go away, but the door creaked open regardless. 

"Oh, sorry. I thought you said come in." At the sound of Even's voice, Isak sat, blood rushing to his cheeks immediately, sure that he had been caught. Even had found the swimsuit. He was coming to yell at him. He—Well, he didn't look mad at all, actually. He was standing in Isak's doorway, dressed in real clothes instead of swim trunks, and he looked almost shy standing there. They hadn't spoken since the incident by the pool the day before and Isak could see every second of that encounter playing behind Even's eyes. 

"No, it's fine," Isak said, pulling his covers around himself tighter and doing his best to straighten out the mop of hair atop his head. "You can come in." 

Even crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, a stack of papers in hand. "I brought you the screenplay," he said, passing it over like some sort of peace offering. "If you still want to read it." Isak took the script and stared down at the water-stained cover reverently. It felt like Even had given him a part of his soul and he had no idea what to do with it. 

He swallowed hard and looked up into Even's expectant eyes. "You finished it?" 

"The first draft, at least," he sighed. "I've still got a long way to go, but I'd love your feedback." 

Suddenly the thought of Even looking to him for an opinion on something this important seemed daunting. "I don't know anything about what makes a movie good though," he said, offering it back. "I don't know how much help I'll be." 

Even chuckled. "Don't worry about it. Good cinema is in your blood. You'll figure it out." 

Isak shook his head. "No, I really don't think it is. One day, I binged like seven Adam Sandler movies in one go and I actually enjoyed it." 

Even winced playfully, but then smiled. "Still," he said, sobering as he pushed the script back into Isak's lap. "Read it. I care what you think." Isak's breath hitched at Even's words, wondering if that could possibly be true. He nodded and cradled the script to his chest, already knowing that he would spend the rest of the day immersed in Even's beautiful mind. 

Even stared long and hard into Isak's eyes, his brow knit together in worry, like there were a million words he wanted to say, but he couldn't figure out how to string them together. Eventually, he seemed to give up. 

"Okay," he said, squeezing Isak's knee under the blankets as he stood. "I'll see you later?" 

Isak nodded absently as he opened the script to the first page. By the time he heard his bedroom door click shut, he was already entranced, so he laid in bed all afternoon, letting Even devour him, word by word. 

* 

Even was already at breakfast when Isak walked into the dining room the next morning and he looked up when he entered, his eyebrows raised in question. Isak pretended not to see him, sat down in his usual seat, and asked his mom to pass the butter. If Even wanted to know what he thought of the screenplay, he was going to have to ask. Let him get a taste of how it felt to want something so bad—to have it dangling in front of you—and still not be able to have it. 

"So what are your plans today, Even?" Terje asked. Even, whose attention was still firmly locked on Isak, took a few moments to answer. 

"Oh, um, I need to head into town actually," he said, his eyes flitting back to Isak and away again so fast he almost didn't notice. "I ordered a book and it's just come in, so..." He paused, as if debating with himself, and then turned back to Isak. "Do you want to come with me?" 

And that’s how Isak found himself pedaling hard on his bike down a dirt road a little while later, Even trailing behind him by just a hair as they raced to the city center. Even ended up beating him handily when Isak had to swerve to avoid an oncoming car down one of the narrow streets, and when they walked into the bookstore ten minutes later, he was still complaining about it. 

“You totally cheated!” Isak cried as Even pushed open the rickety wooden door and stepped into the small shop. 

“How did I cheat?” he laughed. “ _I_ wasn’t driving the car. I didn’t pay the driver to drive down that street at that precise moment. Maybe the universe just wanted me to win, Isak, did you ever think of that?” 

“No, because you should have waited for me!” 

Even scoffed. “I wasn’t about to wait for you. You would have beat me otherwise.” 

Isak threw his arms into the air, victorious. “Exactly!” 

They had reached the counter by this point and although Even smiled down at him, he didn’t give him the satisfaction of replying. Instead, he turned to the shopkeeper, a very pretty dark-haired girl in her early twenties who was already blushing under Even’s attention, and asked her in broken Italian for the book he had ordered. The girl quickly bustled into the backroom to get it and Isak had to refrain from rolling his eyes. 

“Your Italian sucks,” he said instead and Even clutched his heart like Isak’s words had mortally wounded him. This time, Isak _did_ roll his eyes. 

The girl came back quickly, her cheeks still flushed, and Even paid for his purchase before leading Isak back outside without saying anything more than “thank you” and “goodbye.” He hadn’t given her more than a cursory glance the entire time they were in the shop and yet, Isak couldn’t let it go. 

“I bet she gave you her number,” he said. Even looked up from the receipt he had been inspecting and cocked his head like a puppy that had just heard a loud sound. 

“Hm?” 

“The girl in the shop,” Isak prompted. “She was totally giving you bedroom eyes.” 

“Bedroom eyes?” Even laughed long and loud—the sound carrying down the empty street. 

“Yes!” Isak cried because he knew them when he saw them. It was all he ever gave Even anymore. Of course, that might be why he seemed immune to the effects. 

Slowly, Even smirked. “Isak, are you jealous?” 

Isak huffed out an irritated grunt. “No,” he argued and grabbed the bag Even was holding so he could pull the new book out of it. It was a history of Islam, which Isak could only assume was for research (although he wouldn’t put it past Even to pick up this 1000-page monstrosity for a bit of light bedtime reading either). He flipped open the front cover, praying that he was right, and felt strangely vindicated to find a slip of paper jammed into the spine of the book with a phone number scribbled on it. “Told you,” Isak said smugly, passing it over. “For when you get sick of Bianca.” Even stared down at it in shock. 

“Well, I don’t want it. Here,” he tried to pass it back to Isak, but Isak dodged out of the way, like Even was holding a ticking bomb. 

“I don’t want it either!” Isak laughed. “She didn’t give it to _me_ .” Even rolled his eyes, like this whole situation was somehow _Isak’s_ fault, and then crumbled the slip of paper into a ball and tossed it into the next trashcan they passed. Isak couldn’t help but be pleased that he hadn’t pocketed it and a wide smile sprang to his face. He turned away from Even, so that maybe he wouldn’t see it, but he didn’t even try to make it stop. 

“God, how old _are_ we?” Even grumbled. “Twelve?” 

The two of them wandered the streets aimlessly for some time, wheeling their bicycles along beside them. Neither seemed to have any particular destination in mind, but Isak didn’t care. He liked spending time with Even, walking next to him, their pinky fingers brushing against each other with every other step. They didn’t talk much, but the two of them had become comfortable with silence over the weeks. It was familiar now, like a warm blanket on a cold day. 

Isak took what strength he could from that familiarity, stepped up to the edge of the cliff, and then jumped into the icy water below. “I want to show you something,” he said, stopping in the middle of the road. Even took another few steps before registering Isak’s words. 

“Okay,” he shrugged, like agreeing to Isak’s wishes was that easy. “What do you want to show me?” 

Isak swallowed down the excitement bubbling in his throat. “ _Somewhere_ actually. It’s a twenty minute bike ride, but if you don’t mind…” 

“I don’t mind,” Even said immediately, already throwing his leg over his own bike to get himself situated. “Lead the way.” 

The ride out to the cliffs was pleasant. There was a nice breeze blowing outside, providing some welcome relief from the sweltering heat, and the country roads were deserted this time of day, allowing Isak and Even to ride side by side. They didn’t bother racing this time, just enjoyed the journey and the knowledge that they were taking it together. 

When they got close, Isak steered his bike off of the main road and into a small copse where he jumped off before the bike had even slowed and tossed it to the ground in his excitement to show Even what was waiting on the other side of the curtain of trees. Behind him, Even dismounted a bit more gracefully. 

“Come on,” Isak said, grabbing his wrist and hustling him towards the tree line. “This is my favorite place in the whole world.” And as he stepped out into the open, he realized that showing Even this place that meant so much to him—a place where he had laughed and cried and come to be alone with his thoughts more times than he could count—felt a lot like cracking open his chest and allowing Even to take a look at his very soul. It occurred to him then that Even had probably felt much the same entrusting Isak with his screenplay and Isak suddenly felt bad for making him wait to get his thoughts on it. 

The copse that they had stepped out of sat on top of a huge cliff. Below them, stretching for miles all around, were rolling green hills, untouched by time, and across the way you could just make out a line of familiar villas situated into the countryside. It was splendor beyond anything else Isak had ever seen and every time he came back here, it took his breath away again, making his problems seem small and insignificant in the face of such majestic beauty. 

Isak glanced up, before he had really looked his fill, so that he could see Even’s reaction. He was not disappointed. “Whoa,” Even said immediately, his mouth falling open in surprise. Isak smiled, a sharp thrill shooting through his body at Even’s acceptance of the place, and he felt like jumping, dancing, screaming into the abyss because he was just so damn happy. As Even took in their surroundings, it felt like he was looking instead at Isak, seeing him for who he truly was. It was invigorating. 

The two boys ended up on the cool grass, Even lying on his back so he could stare up at the open sky, and Isak on his stomach so that he could stare down at Even. 

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Even said after a few minutes of silence during which Isak had tried to memorize every freckle on Even’s face, every blue fleck in his eyes. He inhaled the smells around them, reveled in the way the grass was leaving marks on his skin, and knew that whenever he came back to this place, even years later, the memory of Even would be waiting for him here still. _I’ll never forget you,_ he wanted to say and although it had been true since the very first day when Isak saw him struggle to climb out of the back of a small taxi, there was no escaping the reality of it now. Even would live in this place forever and Isak would never forget him. 

Even looked up at him expectantly and Isak realized he had been quiet for too long. “I thought you might like it,” he shrugged, watching Even’s throat move as he swallowed. 

“Still,” he said, reaching out and casually running his hand down Isak’s arm, just once. “Thank you.” 

The feel of Even’s skin against his flustered him and, rather than try to pull some obscure topic of conversation out of thin air, he chose to rectify an earlier mistake. “I read your script,” he said, smirking down at Even. _You gave me a part of you and I cherished it, just like you cherished mine_ . 

“Yeah?” Even asked, his shoulders stiffening at Isak’s words like he was actually nervous to hear the verdict. Isak let his smirk soften into a smile. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “And I really fucking loved it. I mean, it was sad as hell—I was sobbing into my pillow for like an hour after I finished it—but it was beautiful in the best way.” Even’s shoulders relaxed and the way his eyes lit up warmed Isak from the inside out. “There’s just one thing I don’t understand though.” Even nodded, silently asking him to continue. Isak took a deep breath and started. “Okay, so Thomas and Sofia—I mean, they’re obviously in love, pining after each other for decades even though they’ve gone and gotten married to other people. It seems like such a waste. I guess I just can’t imagine letting something like that go once you have it.” He paused as he let his own words sink in. “Or maybe I’m afraid to.” 

Even licked his lips and pondered Isak’s words for a minute before responding. “Sometimes love isn’t enough, Isak,” he said with so much conviction that Isak wasn’t even sure they were still talking about fictional characters. “There were factors outside of their control—they come from different worlds, different social classes. Sofia’s parents never would have agreed to the marriage, even if Thomas had asked—and even if they did, that would be damning Thomas to live in a world he wouldn’t be happy in. The beauty of the story is that they both chose to let the other go because they knew they couldn’t give each other what they really wanted.” 

“That isn’t a _love story_ , though,” Isak argued. 

Even rolled his eyes. “Not all love stories have happy endings. Look at _Romeo and Juliet_ , _Titanic—_ ” __

Isak shook his head vehemently because Even was missing the point. “Yeah, but in both of those stories, they _chose_ each other. No, it didn’t end well for them—they didn’t get their happy ending—but for the little while that they had, they were _together_. Thomas and Sofia will spend the rest of their lives living a lie without ever having had the one thing that would have truly made them happy, and you have to ask yourself: if they can live with that, did they ever really love each other at all? I don’t know, I guess I just believe that if you truly felt that strongly about someone, you wouldn’t let them go. Not for anything. I know I don’t have some fancy degree in filmmaking, but that’s not a fucking love story. It’s a tragedy.” 

Even ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Why can’t it be both?” 

Isak tore his eyes away from Even’s and looked out over the green expanse beneath them, thinking again about how the ghosts of Isak and Even in this very moment would live on here forever, no matter whether something ever happened between them or not. Would he consider their epic a love story if twenty years later he came up here and sat alone with only the memory of what they could have been? 

No, he wouldn’t. He would consider that a tragedy of the worst kind. 

“It just can’t,” he decided, staring down at Even once more, appraising him carefully, wondering if some of the thoughts flitting through his mind were flitting through Even’s as well. 

“You seem to know an awful lot about love for someone so young,” Even decided and to Isak’s surprise, he lifted a hand to cup Isak’s cheek. 

“Maybe in theory,” Isak said, leaning into the touch. “But in practice…” He leaned forward so that his face was hovering right over Even’s. Even’s thumb stroked his cheekbone, encouraging him, but when he moved to close the last few centimeters between them, Even shook his head minutely, just enough that Isak could recognize the rebuff when he saw it. Instead of getting embarrassed, however, he took in how Even’s cheeks were flushing beautifully and how his thumb still hadn’t stopped tracing the lines of his face. 

“You’re making this very difficult for me,” Even said slowly, the words sounding forced as he choked them out. They were still close—too close really—and Isak could _feel_ the words against his skin. 

“Making what difficult?” he asked. 

“Don’t,” Even said, huffing out a humorless laugh. “You know this would be wrong. I’m a _guest_ in your house. I’m your father’s student. I’m seven years older than you. I won’t pretend that I haven’t thought about it, but—” Isak’s breath hitched in his throat and Even stopped talking at the sound, looking to him worriedly. How could he admit something like that without any fanfare? How could he state it like it was a fact when Isak hadn’t known? May not ever have known if he hadn’t brought Even up to this cliff on a whim. Even must have recognized the surprise in Isak’s eyes because he rolled his own and squeezed Isak’s cheek in his hand tighter. “You had to have known. What did you think we were doing?” 

“Nothing,” Isak admitted and it was so true that it hurt. “I thought it was all in my head.” It would occur to him later that Even could have easily used that as an out— _Yes, it was all in your head. How stupid of you—_ but he didn’t. 

“It’s not all in your head,” he admitted, his words nothing more than a whisper on Isak’s skin, and in that moment, Isak made a choice. He didn’t want to spend his life wondering what would have happened if he had had the courage to choose love, so he leaned forward and he kissed him. 

Even seemed less surprised about it than Isak did, his thumb never stopping it’s gentle stroking, and he used his grip on Isak’s face to pull him closer, to kiss him deeper, until his tongue was licking along Isak’s lips, forcing its way into his mouth. The kiss was dirty and desperate, nothing like the first kisses you saw in movies, but still, Isak thought it was perfect. 

He broke away a minute later to catch his breath, and although he had meant to dive right back in, Even placed a hand on his chest to stop him. Isak looked down in surprise to find that Even hardly seemed affected by the kiss at all. Sure, his cheeks were still flushed and his pants were fitting a bit tighter than before, but his face gave nothing away, like the kiss was something he had endured rather than something he enjoyed. 

“There,” he said, pushing Isak away so that he could sit up. “You’ve had your taste. Better now?” Isak rolled his eyes, but sat up with him. How could a simple taste ever be enough? He knew Even was trying to seem unaffected, even though Isak could tell he wasn’t, so he leapt forward again, pressing his lips hard against Even’s, determined to draw him into another kiss. This time, Even didn’t kiss him back. His lips were slack under Isak’s and even when he reached out and placed his palm firmly over the hard length in Even’s pants, the older boy still didn’t move. Finally, Isak was forced to tear himself away, defeated, his own face now flushed in embarrassment as he sank back onto his heels. 

Even stood and turned his back to him, allowing Isak to compose himself in private. “We should go,” he said after a minute. “Your family is expecting us for lunch. 

Isak nodded, knowing it was the truth, and led Even back into the copse where they grabbed their bikes and slowly began heading back to the villa. They didn’t talk the whole way home and parked their bikes next to each other in the garage in silence. Even waited for Isak to get done and then the two of them walked back to the house together, their bodies so close that Isak could feel the muscles in Even’s legs as he moved, could reach out and lace their fingers together if he wanted—without even having to try. 

They sat down at the dining table together, taking their usual seats right next to each other so as not to arouse suspicion, and Even fielded all of the questions from Isak’s parents about where they had been and what they had been up to. Even didn’t mention their journey to the cliffs and Isak didn’t correct him. 

The conversation quickly turned to business with Isak’s father talking about some copyright issue he was having with one of his long forgotten films, so Isak tuned everything out except the pounding of his own heartbeat. It was still racing, even though it had been almost an hour since their lips had touched for the first (and possibly the last) time. Isak was left wondering if what he’d said to Even that morning was actually true. Would he rather live with the pain of having Even reject him or the pain of never knowing whether that was the fate that awaited him? 

He was so lost in his thoughts that when he first felt Even’s foot come to rest on his, he thought it was an accident. He tried to move out of the way, not wanting to be even more of a burden than he apparently already was, but Even found him again, using his foot to hold Isak’s leg in place. 

Isak looked up, his mouth falling open in surprise, and Even smiled down at him knowingly as his foot began climbing Isak’s calf and then creeping back down again, setting his skin on fire. It seemed to be an apology of sorts and Isak accepted it wholeheartedly. 

For the rest of the meal, their legs stayed tangled together underneath the table, Even using his toes to play with Isak’s. And when the meal was finally over, Isak left the table with two things he hadn’t had when he sat down: a boner and hope. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I mentioned gratuitous amounts of porn? Yeah, this is it.

Even was distant over the next few days—just like he had been after giving Isak that massage by the pool—but rather than be sad or angry, this time Isak saw it as a challenge. Even had let his stoic, overconfident façade slip and now Isak knew the truth: Even was attracted to him. He wasn’t imagining things, he wasn’t crazy, and that gave Isak the advantage. Even wanted this and all Isak had to do to get him to crack was make him want it badly enough that all sense of propriety flew out the window. So he came up with a plan. 

It wasn’t a diabolical plan by any stretch of the imagination, but it did take a few days to enact since Even had taken to leaving the house in the afternoons and not returning until late into the night after Isak had already fallen asleep. He knew Even was probably out fucking Bianca or that girl from the bookshop—and while that _did_ make him jealous, it didn’t deter him in the slightest. _I’m what he wants_ , he told himself over and over. _I’ve just got to show him that he can have me._

After three days of waiting, he finally forced himself to stay awake long enough to hear Even return to his bedroom next door. His heart immediately started galloping in his chest and Isak was left asking himself if he really had the guts to do what he had planned. He listened as Even bustled around his old bedroom, opening drawers and shucking off his clothes, until finally the springs on his bed squeaked and Isak heard the bedside lamp click off. 

Showtime. 

Isak threw his sheets back until his naked body was exposed to the cool breeze blowing through the open door of his balcony and then he started stroking his half-hard cock slowly, taking his time, making it last. 

Jerking off with Even on the other side of the wall wasn’t exactly new—Isak had been doing that for weeks now. All of those other times, however, he had at least tried to keep quiet. This time he didn’t bother. It was late and his parents were asleep on the far side of the house. If anyone was to hear Isak at all, it would be Even—and he _wanted_ Even to hear him. Wanted Even to get off on the sounds of his pleasure. Wanted him to touch himself, thinking of Isak, not whatever girl he had spent the last few hours with. 

Isak, now fully hard, gathered a bead of pre-come from the head of his cock and used it to coat his length, making it much easier to thrust into his own hand. He let out a low groan at the slippery feel of it and listened for any reaction from Even in the room next door, but heard nothing. He sped up his movements, gripping himself harder, jerking himself faster, reveling in the way the slick sounds of what he was doing echoed in the quiet house. He was breathing heavily and although he wanted to bury his face in his pillow, to bite down on it and muffle what he was feeling, he wouldn’t let himself. He threw his head back against his bed and didn’t bother to stifle his whimpers of pleasure, his soft “please”s and “more”s. 

And after probably five minutes of this, he _finally_ got a reaction. He heard Even’s sheets crinkle from the next room, like he was rolling over in bed, and then there was a groan, which could have been from pleasure, but was probably only from frustration. He worried for a second that Even might just yell at him to stop—or, even worse, cross the barricade between their rooms and _force_ him to stop—but he did neither. Instead, Isak listened carefully and could have sworn he heard the snap of an elastic waistband followed by the soft whimper of a man surrendering. And then, as if by a miracle, Even’s heavy breathing joined his from the other side of the wall. 

Their cries created a melody that sang to Isak’s soul and he didn’t dare stop for even a second to contemplate what exactly they were doing because he worried the illusion would shatter and he would realize that, in actuality, he was all alone. Even wasn’t as vocal as Isak was—he wasn’t sure if that was because he was trying to rein himself in or if he was actually just that quiet in bed—but it was enough to give Isak’s fantasies wings. Every time he lifted his hips and thrust into his hand, he imagined that it was Even’s body he was thrusting into instead. He wondered if anyone had ever fucked Even before. He wondered how tight he would be, how good he would feel wrapped around his cock. He wondered if he was a gentle lover, all sensuous touches and soft, slow kisses, or if he just took what he wanted, fast and rough, seeking his own pleasure above all else. Isak wasn’t sure which possibility excited him on more. 

Isak began stroking himself almost painfully fast, wanting to come more than he had wanted anything in his entire life, but despite all of the stimulation, what finally finished him was Even’s quiet, broken “Isak”—confirmation that in that moment, at least, he was thinking of no one else. 

He came with a strangled yell, so hard that come shot up to his chin. To his immense pleasure, Even followed right after him with a grunt, the springs on his bed heaving like he had arched off of it and then collapsed back down hard. Satisfied, Isak fell asleep dreaming of what Even might look like coated in layers of his own come. 

* 

When Isak’s alarm went off early the next morning, he found that he was actually in the mood to run. It had been a few days and his body missed the strain, the endorphins. He was covered in dry come, not having had the wherewithal to clean himself the night before, so he scraped what he could off with a dirty T-shirt and then just figured he’d take care of the rest in the shower after his run. He smelled like sex, but he didn’t fucking care. He was strangely proud of that fact—wore it like a badge of honor—and it wasn’t like anyone was going to be close enough to smell him anyway. 

He was, of course, wrong, because when he stepped out the front door, Even was already waiting for him, running through a series of stretches to loosen his muscles before they took off. Immediately, Isak’s cheeks flamed and he was just glad that if that was going to be his reaction to seeing Even after what he’d forced on him the night before, at least it was happening here instead of at the breakfast table. 

“I was starting to think you’d given up,” Even said and although he seemed nonchalant, there was a faint blush on his cheeks as well. For a second, Isak thought he was referring to whatever nonexistent relationship Isak had been trying to foster between them, but then Even clarified. “The running?” 

“Oh,” Isak said, shaking his head at his own stupidity. “Yeah. I’ve just been distracted, I guess.” _By you_ , he doesn’t say, but he’s pretty sure Even can hear the words anyway. Isak hadn’t been prepared to deal with Even so early in the morning—or so soon after the night they shared—and he found himself tongue-tied. Even had been known to avoid him after nothing more than a glance that lasted a bit too long. What the fuck was he doing here now? “I’m sorry, were you wanting to run alone?” Because, really, that was the only explanation. 

“No,” Even chuckled. “When I run alone, I make it about half a mile down the road before I turn back. I came to run with you.” Isak still must have looked surprised because Even sighed and dropped his ankle back to the ground from where he’d been stretching his quads. “Look,” he said, taking one step closer to Isak. He didn’t reach out to touch him, but Isak thought if he were anyone else, he might have. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to _do_ anything about it. I just want to run. Please?” 

He looked so lost, so broken, that Isak couldn’t help but nod. “This isn’t going away, you know?” he said. If there was anything he’d learned in the past week, it was that. 

“I know,” Even agreed with a weary sigh, leaving Isak more confused than he had been all summer. _Does he feel it too?_ He wondered. _The inevitability of this?_ They could postpone it, they could ignore it, but from that very first moment they met, Isak knew there was something between them that would be sated by summer’s end. It had to be. Otherwise, Isak thought the _what ifs_ might kill him. 

So they ran to the lake in silence, their heavy breathing the only sound between them, and Isak tried not to be reminded of the night before when Even’s heavy breathing had spurred him to orgasm. When they stopped at the lake and Isak lifted his tank top to wipe the sweat off of his face, he pretended not to notice the way Even’s eyes were resting on his body when he surfaced. And when Even bent down to re-tie his shoelaces, Isak pretended not to stare at his ass. 

It was a dangerous game they were playing, Isak realized. Both of them knew that the other wanted them and yet they both still pretended that they had somehow forgotten. As if that were even possible. 

* 

Even continued to make himself scarce, although he still showed up for their run every single morning. They didn’t talk about anything important—barely talked about anything at all—but his mere presence was enough to satisfy that ache in Isak’s soul that appeared if he went too long without seeing him. It was like he was an addict and Even was his fix. 

Any time Isak tried to start a conversation with him about something deeper than the weather—the revisions on his screenplay, his life back home, the trip to Rome he had planned at the end of the month—Even would quickly gather his things from wherever his was (the pool, usually) and lock himself away in his room for the rest of the day. It was like all of those things were keys to his heart and he wasn’t ready to relinquish them just yet. 

Isak kept thinking that things would change, that after a few days Even would give up trying not to feel anything and at least go back to being Isak’s friend, but a week went by with nothing more substantial between them than Isak’s “this isn’t going away.” Maybe he had been wrong. 

The distance between them made him sick and he was pretty sure his parents were starting to take notice. He couldn’t eat, he could barely sleep, and he spent most of his time curled up in bed, sometimes napping, sometimes re-reading Even’s screenplay, and sometimes listening to the sounds of him typing from the next room. 

It was his father, surprisingly, that finally convinced him to do something about it. “He’ll be gone in two weeks, you know?” he said to Isak’s mom casually over dinner. Isak’s blood ran cold. Two weeks? No, it couldn’t be. They were supposed to have more time. “Feels like he just got here.” 

Marianne hummed in agreement. “He’s been a perfect houseguest. We’ll have to invite him for Christmas.” 

Isak excused himself and wandered back to his bedroom, his hands shaking at his sides. How had he not realized Even was leaving so soon? Why had he not counted the days? 

He sat at his desk for hours that night, penning a note that ended up being only two sentences long: _I can’t take this anymore. I need to talk to you._ Then, because he knew Even still wasn’t home despite the late hour, he snuck into the hallway and slipped the note under his door, his heart thundering in his chest. It was almost dawn before Even made it back, but Isak stayed awake the whole time, waiting. He heard him open his door, take a few steps inside, and then stop, like maybe he was picking something up off of the floor. 

_There’s no going back now_ , he thought. And although it wasn’t a particularly comforting thought, it was enough to allow Isak to drift into sleep. 

* 

He awoke for their run, nerves tingling with anticipation, but although he waited almost ten minutes longer than he usually would, Even never showed. That morning, Isak ran faster than he ever had before—until he couldn’t feel the heartbreak over the stinging in his lungs—and when he reached the lake, he collapsed onto the shore and cried. 

* 

The run took him almost an hour longer than it usually would, so when Isak finally got back home, he could already hear voices chattering away in the dining room. He slipped past the door unnoticed and stepped into the bathroom where he stood under the steaming hot shower and tried to wash all of his pain away. 

He hadn’t brought any clothes with him, so he wrapped a towel tightly around his waist before running across the hall to his own room and quickly slipping into some clothes. It was only then, as he ran the towel through his tangled blonde curls, that he noticed the slip of paper sitting on his desk that hadn’t been there when he left that morning. 

He dropped the towel and ran to it immediately, not even caring that his hair was dripping everywhere. He grabbed the piece of paper, which was folded in half, and opened it, quickly taking in the one word written in Even’s familiar scrawl: _Midnight_. 

He didn’t stop smiling for hours. 

* 

What followed was the longest day of Isak’s life. He stayed in his room for most of it because his nerves were so on edge that he couldn’t even imagine being around people—being around _Even_. It was like there was a high-pitched buzzing in his head all day, making it impossible for him to settle. He tried to distract himself with books and TV and _porn,_ but nothing was able to hold his attention for long and when he did manage to forget what was coming—even if just for a second—the pit in his stomach remained behind, his body still coursing with adrenaline even when his mind wasn’t. So he stayed locked in the safety of his own space and tried not to think. That endeavor was, of course, largely unsuccessful. 

At first glance, the note had seemed like a good thing. Even was acknowledging him—acknowledging his pain. He wanted to fix things. He wanted to _talk_. But what if he didn’t want to talk about getting together? What if he wanted to talk about staying away? What if he wanted to tell Isak to stop being such a child and leave him alone? He couldn’t imagine Even being that cruel—thought that if that had been his intention, he probably just never would have responded at all—but he didn’t _know_ and that doubt niggled at him all day. 

And the note itself was so vague. Just "midnight." It didn’t specify a location. It didn’t specify whether Even was coming to Isak or whether Isak should go to Even. He felt physically ill by the time he heard Even come back to his room about an hour before midnight and with every minute that ticked by after that, the feeling only grew worse. 

He listened as Even wandered around the next room, opening drawers and settling into bed. Had he forgotten? Was he not coming? And then he heard the light click off and was left wondering what the hell he was supposed to do. 

Midnight came and then, just as quickly, was gone again. Isak sat counting the seconds, praying that each one would bring with it the sound of his balcony door being pulled open, but still there was nothing. 

He considered falling back into bed and just going to sleep, but he knew he would never be able to. There was a part of him—a small part—that wondered if Even was lying against that same wall, wondering if Isak was the one that had forgotten about _him_. And that was something he just couldn’t live with, so he swallowed his fear and climbed out of bed, stepping out onto the balcony and crossing from his door to Even’s. He thought about just pushing it open, but it seemed rude to barge in when there was the very real possibility that Even didn’t want to see him at all. He knocked instead. 

For several seconds, he heard nothing, but then, like a cavalry charging into a battle that was seconds away from being lost, he heard the sound of Even crawling out of bed and walking over to the door. He had just enough time to breathe a sigh of relief before the door was open and Even was standing in front of him, smiling softly, his blonde hair already tangled atop his head. 

“You came,” he said, like he was surprised. He stepped out of the way so that Isak could walk past him into the room. “I thought you might have changed your mind.” 

“Me?” he asked, bewildered. “Never.” 

Even’s smile widened as he shut the door behind them and then he walked over to the wall and bent down to turn on a small nightlight that was plugged into the outlet there. Isak closed his eyes and groaned in embarrassment. 

“Has that been here all summer?” he asked, making sure to keep his voice at a whisper. He thought he had cleared every potentially embarrassing thing out of his room, but apparently he was wrong. He had to admit that the light served them well now though, brightening the room enough that he could see Even’s face, but not enough that Even could see the way his hands were still shaking. 

“It comes in handy,” Even shrugged, sitting back down on his bed with his legs crossed in front of him. “Come, sit.” 

Isak swallowed hard, the pounding in his chest so loud now that he was positive that Even could hear it even from across the room, but did as he was asked, joining Even on the bed and sitting directly in front of him, mirroring him exactly, but being careful not to touch. The last thing he wanted to do was scare him away now. 

They sat in silence for several minutes, just staring at each other. Even was eerily still, his eyes never leaving Isak’s, but Isak was spooling and unspooling a loose thread from the sheet around his finger over and over, just to give himself something to do. He knew Even was waiting for him to say something, but he was so scared that when he finally spoke, it would bring whatever they were building crashing back to the ground. 

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he said eventually, looking down at where the thread was spooled so tightly around the tip of his finger that it was turning purple. He quickly unwound it. 

“I’ve been _avoiding_ you,” Even corrected. “There’s a difference.” 

Isak rolled his eyes. “Barely.” Even smiled at the joke and it uncoiled the knot in Isak’s stomach just enough for him to ask his next question. “Why?” 

The smile immediately faded and Even licked his lips, which Isak had come to recognize as something he only did when he was nervous. “Because,” he said with a heavy sigh, his voice shaking slightly. When he spoke again, however, he spoke with conviction and it rattled Isak to his core. “You make me feel things I’m not ready to feel—things I _shouldn’t_ feel.” 

There was an argument in there that Isak could pick apart if he wanted to, but he was too shaken by the power in the words that he didn’t even bother. “I feel it too,” he said. “And I’m going to keep feeling it whether we do anything about it or not. You’re going to move home and I’m still going to be here, feeling it.” 

Even swallowed hard. “Me too,” he admitted. 

“So I guess the question now is,” Isak said, trying to sound more confident than he felt as he thought back on the screenplay Even had given him to read. “Are you going to be a coward like Thomas and let me slip through your fingers? Or are you going to choose me, just this once, and let us be together—even if it is only for a little while?” 

Even looked at him, eyes lit with wonder, and then reached out and placed his hand on Isak’s knee in front of him. Isak, whose skin felt like it had been flayed open, gasped at the touch and Even immediately pulled away. Shaking his head at his own stupidity, Isak reached out and grabbed Even’s hand once more, placing it back where it had started. They sat there awkwardly, both unsure what to do next, but then Even started rubbing his thumb over Isak’s knee, soothing him, and suddenly he just knew everything was going to be okay. 

“I’m nervous,” he admitted, his voice cracking under the weight of the words. 

Even laughed softly. “Isak,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m nervous too.” He grabbed Isak’s hand and set it right over his heart so that he could feel it pounding underneath his fingertips, at least as hard as Isak’s was. 

Strangely, it had never occurred to him that Even might share his anxiety and that, more than anything, calmed him. He was still nervous in the way that he imagined most people were nervous before having sex for the first time, but he was no longer paralyzed by fear. Now, unequivocally, he wanted this. 

Hand still hovering over Even’s heart, he lunged forward onto his lap and kissed him. Although it shouldn’t have, it still came as a surprise when Even grabbed him by the waist, pulled him closer, and kissed him back. Isak tried to push Even back against the bed, tried to speed up the kiss and take what he knew he was being offered, but Even wouldn’t let him. He kissed him slow, tender, until Isak’s heart had stopped racing in his chest and he could just _enjoy_ what they were doing, savor the taste of Even on his lips and know that he wasn’t going to pull away anytime soon. He’d never had the luxury of kissing someone like this, when kissing wasn’t the main event, but only the precursor. From his angle on Even’s lap, he could feel him hardening beneath him and it was strangely exhilarating to know that he had that kind of power over something, even if it was just a dick. 

After several minutes, when Isak was soft and pliant beneath Even’s touch, Even grabbed the hem of his dark gray T-shirt and pulled it over his head, causing his nipples to pebble as the cold air hit them. Even took one into his mouth immediately, biting and sucking until Isak’s back was arching into him, allowing him access to whatever he wanted. 

The next thing he knew, Even had flipped them so that Isak’s bare back was to the bed and Even was hovering over him with a devilish smirk. “You okay?” he asked and Isak nodded vehemently, silently begging him not to stop. He grabbed Isak’s pajama shorts by the waist and pulled them and his boxers down simultaneously, his dick slapping hard against his stomach as it was freed from its confines. He was already wet with pre-come—probably wetter than he had ever been—but the hungry look on Even’s face told him that there was nothing to be embarrassed about. Isak expected him to reach out and taste, like he had done with that ice cream cone so many weeks before, but he just let it sit and slunk down the bed towards his feet instead. Isak reached out for his own cock, needing some sort of stimulation, but Even slapped his hand away. 

“Give me a minute,” he said, smiling. Although Isak very much did not want to, he clenched his hand into the sheets beneath him instead, knowing that Even had a point, even if he didn’t know it. Isak was close to coming already. No need to speed that process along. 

He was so distracted trying to will his boner down that the feel of a warm, wet heat wrapped around his big toe startled him so badly that he jerked his foot out of Even’s mouth. “Oh, shit, sorry,” he said, looking down at Even, who was laying at the foot of the bed, now shirtless, staring up at him with the most unimpressed look he had ever seen. “Sorry,” he reiterated. “I wasn’t expecting that! I forgot you have a thing for feet.” He put his foot back where it had started and wiggled his toes like an offering. “Proceed.” 

Even rolled his eyes. “I don’t have a thing for feet,” he denied, taking Isak’s in hand once more. “I have a thing for _your_ feet. Your everything, really.” And then he closed his mouth around the toe again and started sucking. It felt odd, more than anything, but the enthusiasm with which Even was lavishing attention to his feet was so infectious that he couldn’t help but be a bit turned on by the fact that anyone loved any part of his body that much. _If you love my feet, you’ll really love my cock,_ he wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut and let Even have his fun. 

When Even finished with his feet, he began kissing up his legs and then his stomach, his neck, all the while avoiding the one place Isak needed attention the most. Isak’s hips were thrusting up into the air helplessly, desperately seeking the friction Even was denying him. Eventually, however, Even had placed kisses everywhere else and there was nowhere left for him to hide. He paused to grab a small bottle of lube from behind his pillow and then held Isak down by his hips, letting his warm breath ghost over Isak's cock playfully. He expected him to take him in his mouth and bring him to orgasm right then, but instead Even placed one gentle kiss on the tip and then focused his attention lower, licking around Isak’s rim and starting to open him up one lube-soaked finger at a time. 

Isak had started using fingers on himself at night, as he lay there listening to Even’s breathing, but it felt so different when it was someone else’s fingers. The stretch didn’t hurt, but there was a pressure building there that wasn’t exactly comfortable. 

“Still good?” Even asked, his voice thick, as he transitioned from one finger to two. 

Isak nodded, but he couldn’t withhold the wince as that second finger pushed inside. Fuck, that was a lot. But Even was slow with him, patient, and when it got to be too much and his cock started flagging, Even finally gave him the one thing he had been craving. 

“Don’t come, okay?” he said. “If you’re about to come, tell me and I’ll stop.” Isak just scoffed because _yeah right_ he was going to tell Even to stop for anything, but when his mouth finally closed around Isak's dick as his fingers continued working, he realized very quick that Even might have had a point. 

“Okay, stop, stop,” he said, using his hand to push Even’s head away. Even laughed, but popped off of his cock without a complaint, twisting the three fingers he had buried in his ass and causing Isak to hiss. 

“Does that hurt?” Even asked, kissing the inside of his thigh. Isak shook his head, because it didn’t, but it still felt weird and his nerves were starting to creep back in. “You okay?” 

Isak nodded, but Even must have been able to see how nervous he was because he slowly extracted his fingers from his ass and slithered up his body to place a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. Isak tangled his fingers in Even’s hair and pulled him closer, kissed him harder, trying to steal some of Even’s unshakeable confidence. After a few minutes, during which Isak was unwilling to relinquish his hold on Even for even a second, Even reached out, untangled one of Isak’s hands from his hair, and placed it, once more, over his own racing heart. _I’m nervous too_. He heard the words even though Even didn’t say them. 

Finally, Isak let Even pull back enough to stare down at him, both of them breathing heavily. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” Even breathed. “I’m not going anywhere. We can wait.” Immediately, Isak shook his head because although he understood what Even was saying, he _was_ going somewhere. In two weeks, he would be back on a plane home and Isak might not ever see him again. He would be damned if he missed even a moment with him, if a moment was all that they got. Even nodded knowingly. “You ready?” 

He lined himself up and was just about to press inside when suddenly all of Isak’s fears crashed upon him at once, one more prominent than the rest. “Wait, wait, wait, wait,” he said and the boy stopped immediately, looking down at him worriedly. Staring at him, Isak felt like his chest had been cracked open. He felt like Even was squeezing his heart so tightly that with one wrong move, he would be able to crush it in his hands and destroy it forever. “Don’t do this,” he said, his voice a broken whisper. “Not if it means nothing to you. I don’t think I could live with that.” 

“Isak,” Even sighed, cupping his face in his hands reverently. “I don’t think anything in my life has ever meant quite this much.” 

When they finally came together, there was pain. Isak had known there would be, but it still took his breath away. Even shushed him and whispered sweet nothings into his ear (“I’m going to take care of you”) until he relaxed around him, but still he didn’t move until Isak gave him the okay. He forced himself to breath through the pressure, to not whimper or cry, and, sooner than he’d been expecting, the pain faded. 

“Fuck,” Isak hissed as Even’s cock brushed against something inside of him that lit his whole body up like a live wire. He thrust back against him, wondering absently if a dick could drive him to madness because he felt a little mad in that moment, like reality was slipping from him. 

Isak became hypnotized by the look on Even’s face as he moved above him, taking his pleasure from Isak’s body, and he pulled him close, allowing the older man to breath into his neck as he stroked his back and soothed him as he had soothed Isak. 

And in that moment, Isak knew what it meant to become one with another person. Call him Isak or call him Even—he would respond to both because they became each other that night and it was a feeling that he would continue to chase for the rest of his life. 

Despite Isak’s worry that he wouldn’t be able to last long enough, it was Even that came first, pulling out of Isak’s tight body to come onto his stomach instead, soaking his still hard cock. Even then used his own come to jerk Isak off and within seconds, he was screaming his release to the ceiling with their come mixing together on his chest, just as he’d once imagined it would in the bathing suit he’d jerked off in. How far they had come since then. 

Isak quickly realized that Even was the type of person who liked to cuddle after sex, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. Even grabbed his T-shirt off of the floor to clean Isak off and then plastered himself to Isak’s side, drawing the duvet up around them and resting with his head against Isak’s chest. Isak didn’t think he’d ever felt more loved than he did in that moment, and as he stroked his fingers through Even’s hair, Even leaned into his touch like a cat, nosing deeper against his chest. 

Within minutes, Even had drifted off to sleep and it did things to Isak to know that he felt safe and comfortable enough in his arms to do so. Isak, however, couldn’t stand the thought of wasting even a single precious second, so he lay there, staring down at Even and how soft he looked, his eyes moving fast behind his eyelids in sleep, his fingers absently curled into the sheets on the other side of Isak’s body. What finally lulled him into his own dreams was the familiar scent of Even permeating the fabric around him and the thought that at least when he was gone, that scent would linger and he would be able to pretend that he was back in this moment once more. 

* 

Isak woke at dawn to the morning light just starting to stream through the balcony windows and Even’s ice blue eyes staring over at him. Memories from the night before came rushing at him all at once and he turned to the side to bury his wide smile in a pillow. Even, however, was having none of that. He reached out and placed a hand on Isak’s cheek, turning his head so that they were staring at each other straight on, mere centimeters between them. 

“Good morning,” Even said, rubbing his nose against Isak’s in greeting. 

“Good morning,” Isak replied and he knew he was blushing, knew his whole body was probably a ridiculous shade of red, but he couldn’t control it—didn’t even really want to. _Look what you’ve done to me_ , he wanted to say. _You made me yours and now I’m a lovesick mess._

The next thing he knew he was laughing quietly into Even’s chest because he was just so damn happy. He couldn’t believe that only twenty-four hours earlier he had been crying at the lake because he thought he would never have this. Now here it was, handed to him, and it was better than anything he ever could have expected. 

“Were we loud?” he asked when the thought occurred to him and he felt Even’s rumbling laugh from where his head was resting on his chest. 

“I mean, _I_ wasn’t,” Even joked, but at Isak’s outraged huff, he soothed him by running a hand down his bare back. “No, Isak, it’s fine. No one heard us.” 

“But the sheets,” he realized. “And your shirt—” 

“I’ll handle it,” Even insisted with a laugh. “Believe it or not, I’ve been doing my own laundry for a long time. I can handle one load without the maid getting suspicious.” Isak thought Even was severely underestimating how suspicious the maid was, but he chose not to comment. 

After several minutes had passed and the sun came to sit fully in the sky above them, Isak decided that it was probably time for him to leave. “I should go,” he said, sitting up and forcing Even to abandon his efforts to tame Isak’s curls with his fingers. He would learn quickly that that never would have worked anyway. 

“No,” Even argued, trying to pull him back down, but Isak slipped out of his grip and threw his legs over the side of the bed, already searching for his clothes from the night before. “Stay. Just a few more minutes.” 

“What if someone sees me sneaking out of your room later?” Isak countered. “I need to get out of here before anyone wakes up.” 

“You’ll use the balcony. No one will see you.” 

“And what if someone comes to _my_ room looking for me, and I’m not there?” That Even didn’t seem to have an answer to. Isak couldn’t find his boxers, but he did find his pajama bottoms and slipped those on before standing and crossing the room to gather the rest of his things. He winced at the soreness in his muscles as he stood, but was careful not to let Even see. 

Once he had all of his clothes in hand, he walked back to the bed and placed a gentle peck on Even’s lips to tell him goodbye. When he pulled back, Even’s eyes stayed closed for several long seconds, as if he were savoring the taste of the kiss on his lips. “We’ll swim today,” Even decided when he finally opened his eyes. “You probably don’t feel much like running.” No, Isak silently agreed. He really didn’t. He nodded and began backing towards the door. “Hey, Isak?” Even asked just as he was about to leave. “Are you happy?” 

Isak paused and turned to smile over his shoulder. He was surprised that Even actually seemed worried about the answer, like he was expecting Isak to pull away now that they had finally crossed whatever invisible line had been drawn between them. He had planned to make a joke out of it, but seeing the vulnerability there on Even’s face, he just couldn’t. “Yes,” he said simply. _Mind-numbingly, life-alteringly happy_. “Are you?” 

Even gave him a soft smile and shrugged. “I didn’t even know it was possible to be this happy.” 

* 

Their swim that morning was less of a swim and more of a lazy float around the pool. Even tried to swim a few laps to keep up appearances, but Isak was too sore to even bother. Within fifteen minutes, they were both sitting on the side of the pool, their legs tangled together beneath the water, whispering softly to each other as the birds chirped in the air around them. There was a closeness to them now that hadn’t been there before, an intimacy born after their night together. 

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Even asked at one point. Isak furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Last night,” he clarified. “You’re…walking funny, so—” 

“Oh my god,” Isak stopped him, burying his head in his hands. “Do we have to talk about this?” 

When he looked back up, Even’s cheeks were flaming red and he just shrugged at Isak. “I mean, if it wasn’t good for you, you have to tell me because otherwise I can’t make it better and—” 

“Even,” Isak interrupted, reaching out to grab his hand and pulling it into his lap. “When I came last night, I literally blacked out for like ten seconds. And even though you said I was quiet, I know I fucking wasn’t, so what about that makes you think I didn’t enjoy it? I’m just sore, okay? It’ll pass.” He thought back to examining himself in the mirror that morning, how the skin around his asshole had been red and puffy, but without any other noticeable defect. Even had taken care of him, just like he’d promised. 

Even sighed. “No, I know, I just…” he trailed off and then looked up at Isak from beneath his eyelashes shyly. “Was that your first time?” Isak blushed, but he was determined not to be ashamed, so he never tore his gaze away from Even’s as he nodded. “And you don’t regret it?” 

“No, but if this conversation doesn’t end soon, I might start.” Even chuckled and held his hands up in surrender before going back to playing with Isak’s feet under the water. The next time he reached out with his own foot to try to grab Isak’s toes, Isak grabbed his instead. “What is it with you and my feet?” he laughed, wrestling Even’s leg closer to him. Even opened his mouth in mock-outrage and before Isak realized what was happening, he found himself being pushed back into the pool. 

He sputtered to the surface, already laughing hysterically, and when Even realized he wasn’t mad, he joined in. It was such a ridiculous thing, but in that moment, he felt the happiness Even had spoken of that morning—a happiness that transcended lifetimes and lived on in only two people. This was the life Isak wanted for himself, always and forever, and although the stopwatch was ticking down the days, the hours, the minutes, he couldn’t imagine living without this, not even for a second. 

* 

They headed back to their rooms a little while later to get dressed for breakfast but, much to Isak’s surprise, Even strolled right past his own bedroom door and followed Isak through his. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, confused, shutting the door behind them. When he looked up, he found that Even’s eyes were dark, hooded with lust, and _oh_ , that’s what he was doing. Isak couldn’t help but blush, wondering what he could possibly have done to arouse him. But then again, all Even had to do was stand there and Isak would be ready to jump him in seconds. 

“Take off your shorts,” he commanded, his authoritative voice hardening Isak quickly. Isak’s blush darkened. 

“I don’t know if I can—” 

“I’m not going to fuck you,” Even assured him. “Just take off your pants.” And, because Isak trusted him, he did as he was asked, kicking out of his swim trunks and standing there in front of his bed, completely naked, fighting the urge to cover himself with his hands. Whereas the night before the lighting had been dim and there was nothing much to see besides shadows, now the sun was shining and he couldn’t hide his blemishes—the acne scars and the stretch marks—so he just let Even drink it in. And he did. Like a man dying of thirst. Isak could tell that he was hard in his own suit, his cock straining valiantly against the fabric, but he made no move to touch himself. Instead, he fell to his knees in front of Isak, like he was worshipping him, and took his cock into his mouth. 

The sound Isak made was, quite frankly, embarrassing, but Even hadn't prepared him for this. Isak thought he had exhausted the extent of his blowjob repertoire the night before, but he was so fucking wrong. Even grabbed him by the back of his thighs, pulled him closer, and opened his throat so that he could take him all the way down. It was done with so much expertise that Isak's stomach was cramping within a minute as he tried to hold his orgasm back and it was clear this wasn't the first time Even had done this—that he had practice, lots of it—but Isak couldn't be jealous of all the dicks he'd sucked before because it had gotten him to this moment, to this blessed orgasm waiting just around the corner. 

He tangled his fingers into Even's hair to warn him that this was about to be over very quickly, but before he could find his release, Even pulled off of him, leaving Isak bereft, and stood. 

"What are you doing?" Isak asked stupidly. 

Even smirked. "We're late for breakfast, Isak," he said, like that was obvious. "I'll finish this later." Then, with no explanation whatsoever, he picked Isak's discarded swim trunks off of the floor and carried them with him as he walked out of the room, throwing a smug smile over his shoulder as he left. 

Isak stood there, stunned, for several long seconds, his dick throbbing an angry red against his stomach. "Asshole," he cried when he got his wits about him and he heard Even laugh from the next room. 

It took almost fifteen minutes before he was able to talk his boner into submission, but he still somehow managed to beat Even to the dining room, which ended up being a blessing in disguise because when Even walked in wearing the same swim suit Isak had been wearing only minutes before, his boner was immediately back in full force. He closed his eyes and shook his head at the sheer absurdity of the situation and prayed for patience and stamina far beyond what he had demonstrated thus far. Coming untouched at the breakfast table with his parents in the room would not be the best way to start his day. 

Even sat down across from Isak with a knowing smile and then turned his attention to Terje, who was asking about the screening of his first film, _Minute by Minute_ , in Rome at the end of the month. Even answered his questions, never giving any indication that he was even slightly aroused, but Isak couldn't help it. It didn't matter that the conversation and the company wasn't sexy at all—all he could think about was Even wearing his clothes, putting on his swimsuit like Isak had once put on his. Did he know about the time Isak snuck into his room and humped his pillow to orgasm? Had he done the same with Isak's? And god, his ass in that suit—so tight and plump like the peach Even was biting into at that very minute. Isak watched entranced as some juice sluiced down the side of his mouth and Even had to use his finger to wipe it off, his foot rubbing against Isak’s under the table all the while. 

His body felt like it was burning from the inside out and his cock was throbbing painfully in his pants. He felt ill, like when you overdose on chocolate, and if he wasn't able to get off soon... 

He heard his parents’ chairs scrape out from underneath the table and then, miraculously, they were gone. Isak looked up to find Even smirking over at him. 

"What are you playing at?" Isak hissed, but Even just shrugged, dipping the last bite of his peach into a huge dollop of yogurt before putting it in his mouth and then standing to walk around the table and sit in his usual seat next to Isak. "For someone who didn't want to fuck me out of respect for his relationship with my father, this is some really kinky shit to be doing at the breakfast table." 

Even furrowed his brows. "That's not why I didn't want to fuck you." 

That surprised Isak. "Why then?" 

"Because," Even sighed morosely. "I thought that leaving you at the end of the summer might kill me—I still do—but I decided that if I was going to die, I wanted to die knowing what it was like to have you. At least for a little while." Isak's heart was thundering in his chest as Even reached out and cupped his dick through his pants. He didn't stroke, didn't make any move to try to get him off. It was like he was simply curious as to what effect he'd had on him. Isak, who was curious too, reached out and mirrored him, pleased to find that Even was at least as hard as he was. 

"Fuck, Even," he groaned, staring up at him. "Can we finish this now please?" 

"Later," Even sighed, but this time he seemed put out by it. "Sorry, but I forgot I have an appointment with my translator in town at ten. You can come with me if you want." 

"With this?" Isak asked, nodding down at his groin where Even was now tracing the vein on the under side of his cock through the thin fabric absently. 

Even licked his lips, but this time it seemed to be out of thirst rather than nervousness. "Think you can keep this until I get back?" 

Isak snorted. "I don't even think I can keep this for the next ten minutes," he countered. 

Even laughed. "Fine. I probably deserve that. Just don't wear yourself out, okay? I'm not done with you." He stood, stepping out from beneath Isak's hand and smirking down at him as he left the room, his cock still tenting the fabric of Isak's bathing suit. 

"Fuck," he muttered, already thinking about how good it would feel to finally wrap his hand around himself and relieve some of this tension. He stood from the table, grabbing a peach from the fruit bowl since he hadn't been able to eat breakfast, and then retreated to his room where a well-deserved orgasm was waiting. 

* 

Isak was the kind of horny that made you stupid. The kind of horny where all that mattered was getting your dick wet, preferably inside something hot and wet, and nothing else mattered—not your pride or your humility or your self-respect. He stood in his room, looking down at the peach in his hand, and he thought about Even’s mouth wrapped around it, what it had looked like covered in the gooey white cream of the yogurt, and it awoke something inside of him that probably would have been better off staying dormant. 

He tried to talk himself out of a it for a solid minute, but the idea had already taken hold and now it felt like a dare, a challenge, and he couldn’t let it slip by unanswered. “What the fuck am I doing?” he muttered to himself as he slipped out of the shorts and boxers he had put on for breakfast, leaving him in only a tank top, his dick more excited for what was about to happen than Isak was willing to admit. 

He didn’t have a knife in his room so he had to use a pen to open the peach halfway so he could scoop the pit out, which probably wasn’t sanitary, but what he was about to do with the peach _definitely_ wasn’t sanitary, so he doubted it mattered. Then, once the pit was lying helpless on top of his desk and the peach had a nice, cock-shaped opening through the middle of it, Isak cradled it gently in his hands, determined not to let it fall apart yet, and, knowing that his next actions would damn him to hell, he shoved his dick inside. 

And fuck, it felt good. 

There was something taboo about what he was doing—something more taboo, even, than sleeping with Even the night before—and he got off on it, thrusting inside the innocent fruit over and over, allowing the juices to coat his cock, to cover his hands, to drip onto the floor. The peach crumbled quickly, too fragile to accommodate Isak’s girth, but he held both halves in place, fucking into it with a mindless intensity, and when he finally reached his breaking point, he shuddered out his orgasm onto one half of the peach, coating it in a drizzle of come. 

Isak had done some really bizarre things in his lifetime when he was horny enough—shoved things inside of him that weren’t meant to be shoved inside of anything, snuck into his houseguest’s room and fucked himself on top of their bed, wearing their clothes—but out of all the things Isak had ever done, he thought this had to be the most peculiar. Slightly horrified by his actions, he dropped the peach onto his desk, apologizing profusely to the inanimate object in his head, and then backed away, collapsing into bed, determined to fall asleep and forget that this monstrosity had ever happened. 

* 

Isak was awoken to a hot, wet heat wrapped around his cock. He thrust up into it, chasing the feeling, praying that it wouldn’t go away, and it took him several impossibly long seconds to realize what was happening. He blinked his eyes open sleepily to find Even’s blonde hair bobbing over his lap and it was only when he pulled off and started to lick and suck the sides of his dick too, that Isak remembered just what the fuck he’d gotten into earlier. 

“Oh god,” he groaned, covering his face with his hands and rolling over onto his side so that Even wasn’t subjected to his peach-flavored dick any longer. 

“Why the fuck does your dick taste like peaches?” Even laughed, running his hand over Isak’s hip. “What have you been doing?” 

Already resigned to his fate, Isak gestured helplessly towards his desk, still hiding his face in his hands. Even squeezed his hip once and then climbed off of the bed. Isak waited until he was sure Even’s attention would be on the peach instead of him before he sat up, his cheeks burning. 

Even picked the half of the peach covered in come up and examined it, looking over his shoulder at Isak with a lascivious grin. Then he turned, peach still in hand, and without any hesitation whatsoever, brought it to his mouth and took a large bite. 

“Oh my god! What are you doing? Stop!” Isak cried, springing from the bed to try to wrench the fruit out of Even’s hand, sure that he must not have understood what he was looking at. Even held it up, out of Isak’s reach, and Isak was so stunned that he sat back down on the edge of his bed and just stared, watching Even carefully as he chewed. When he finished his first bite, he took another and then another, giving no signs at all that he found the act disgusting or shameful. Instead, he made it look like he was eating some sort of foreign delicacy. 

When he was finally down to one bite left, Isak watched as the last of his come entered Even’s body. The realization that this man wanted him—all of him, every last drop—shook him to his core. All day there had been this nagging thought in the back of his mind: _He’s going to get sick of you now that he’s had you. You like him more than he could ever like you_ . But he couldn’t imagine someone doing what Even just did only to get off. He had devoured Isak's very essence and Isak had never felt as intimately connected to another person as he did in that moment. 

He swallowed down the last of the peach and Isak stood, lunging forward to kiss him with so much fervor it nearly knocked both of them to the floor. Even cupped Isak’s face in his sticky fingers and kissed him back hard, allowing Isak to lick into his mouth so that he could taste the peaches sweetened with the salty tang of his come. When he pulled back, Even was staring down at him lovingly. 

“Why did you do that?” Isak asked, still feeling slightly dazed. 

Even shrugged. “Because I wanted to.” 

They ended up tangled on top of the bed, giving each other lazy kisses that tasted like summer, Isak still only half-clothed. Even had seen all of him—the worst of him—and accepted it. Isak’s body was his to love how he wanted. 

“I’ve got to go,” Even said a few minutes later, giving Isak two wet kisses on each of his cheeks. 

“No,” Isak whined, twining his fingers into Even’s T-shirt and reeling him back down into a kiss. It worked for a minute, which was more than Isak had expected it to, but eventually Even really did pull away, crawling off of the bed and straightening his clothes into something that might pass for presentable. “Your hair’s a mess,” Isak pointed out and Even just groaned. 

“Yeah, well, I can’t really fix it with these,” he said, wiggling his sticky fingers at Isak, “or it will only get worse.” Isak smiled into his pillow, irrationally proud that Even would have to walk around with sex hair for a little while longer. Once Even seemed satisfied that he only looked _half_ -fucked, rather than the thoroughly fucked that he had been sporting before, he leaned back down to place one last peck on Isak’s lips and then headed towards the door. “I’ve got to put in my hour with your dad and then I’ll be back,” he promised. 

Isak watched him go with the biggest smile on his face, already thinking to hours later when they could be alone again. 

* 

Dinner that night was quiet—just the four of them—and there were no peaches anywhere, thank god, because Isak didn’t think he’d be able to see one without getting a boner for at least a month. 

He had planned to ask Even if he wanted to walk down by the beach after dinner and watch the sunset (because that seemed like the type of sappy thing Even would be into), but Terje asked for Even's help with something before the meal was even over and it was late into the night before Isak heard the soft knock at his bedroom door. 

Although he’d been expecting it, it still set his heart thundering in his chest. “Come in,” he said, and although it wasn’t louder than a whisper, Even heard him and stepped quietly into the room, shutting and locking the door behind him. 

“Hi,” he greeted, plopping down on the bed next to Isak and throwing his arm across his chest, clearly exhausted. Isak laughed and placed a soft kiss on the top of his head. 

“My dad wear you out?” 

“He’s been so needy today,” Even agreed, leaning into Isak’s touch as he began combing his fingers through his hair. “I usually don’t mind, but my head’s been in bed with you, so…” 

“You’re here now,” Isak pointed out and Even smiled widely, tipping his lips up for a kiss. It started off lazy, but soon Even was rolling onto his stomach and climbing Isak’s body so that he could deepen the kiss. What had started off as a hello built to something much more as their bodies molded to each other, just as they had done the night before, hands exploring territory they had missed on first inspection until every inch of Isak’s skin was flushed and tingling with the ghost of Even’s touch. 

He knew where this was headed and he wanted it, more than anything, but there was still an ache in his muscles that stopped him from pushing things too far. When Even’s hand began creeping down the front of his boxers, he knew he had to stop him. He pushed him away lightly, not enough to stop him completely, just enough to speak, and Even acquiesced easily, moving his lips to Isak’s neck and sucking on the skin there until Isak almost forgot what he had been planning to say. 

“Even, wait,” he said. “I want to try something different.” That, at least, got Even’s attention and he pulled away, staring up at Isak with one eyebrow cocked. Isak swallowed hard, not quite sure how to voice what he wanted—not even sure if it was anything he had a right to ask for, but he had been thinking about it ever since that night they jerked off together in opposite bedrooms with only the sound of the other’s voice to bring them off. “I want to watch you touch yourself.” 

Although the room was only lit by the dim light of Isak’s bedside lamp, he heard Even’s sharp intake of breath as his cheeks began to darken. “You can say no,” Isak amended quickly, sure that he had taken things a step too far. “It was just a thought. I don’t think you’re going to be able to fuck me tonight—my ass is still pretty sore—so I thought, maybe, at least this way you could get off and—” 

“Isak,” Even stopped him, cupping his cheek and placing a gentle kiss on his lips. Isak paused his monologue and took a much-needed gulp of air. “You didn’t think I was going to try to fuck you again tonight, did you?” For a second, Isak thought he meant he didn’t _want_ to fuck him again tonight, but Even barreled on without even realizing what his words might have sounded like. “You’re still waddling around like a duck. I thought maybe tonight you would fuck me instead. If you wanted.” And he sounded so shy asking for it, like it was something he didn’t think Isak would want, when, in actuality, it was all Isak had been thinking about for a month now. 

“You want me to fuck you?” he asked stupidly, sitting up straighter in bed, trying to make sure he’d heard him correctly. Even nodded. “Yeah, yes, let’s do that.” Even laughed at his enthusiasm and let Isak kiss him hard on the lips, but before things could go too far, he pulled back with a suggestive grin. 

“Do you want to watch me touch myself first?” And god, if Isak survived this night, it was going to be a miracle. 

He watched in fascination as Even quickly stripped himself of his clothes, exposing his sun-tanned skin to the moonlight, and then pushed Isak back against the headboard and sat between his outspread legs, his back against Isak’s front. He leaned his head into the crook of Isak’s neck and Isak could feel his heart racing as their bodies melted together. Then, Even wrapped his nimble fingers around his own cock and began stroking himself slowly. 

Even was hard before he even started, but after only a few thrusts he was mewling into Isak’s neck, dampening the skin there with his muggy breath. Isak watched him in fascination, cataloguing his every move, trying to keep track of what Even did to himself so that he could replicate it later. He was entranced by the movements, by the fact that Even trusted him enough to let him watch this, to allow himself to fall apart in his arms when Isak wasn’t falling apart right there with him. 

Isak wasn’t sure what to do with his hands—wasn’t sure if Even would want him to reach out and touch or not—so he compromised, running his hands up and down Even’s hips, silently urging him on. Even cried out at the touch, like his skin had been set on fire, and instead of mouthing at Isak’s neck, he latched on tight, nipping and sucking until Isak felt like just as much of a wreck as Even looked. 

Then, without Isak even asking for it, Even took the hand that wasn’t wrapped firmly around his cock and worked it behind himself, circling his rim. Isak wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he knew that he didn’t want Even fingering himself dry, so he reached out and grabbed Even’s free hand, guiding his fingers into his mouth where he soaked them heavily in his saliva. It wasn’t hard. He was practically drooling as it was. 

Even began opening himself up and it was a magnificent thing to behold, watching him thrust forward into his own hand and then back onto his own fingers, but soon the boy was an absolute mess, panting and begging and clutching at Isak like he was the only thing keeping him from drowning. 

“Please,” he said eventually, his voice breaking. “Isak, please. I need you to fuck me.” 

So Isak took Even’s hands in both of his, kissing each knuckle to thank him for what he had just been given, and then rolled him onto his side so that he could spoon into the space behind him. Then, because Isak had somehow remained dressed during that whole thing, he pulled his pajamas down around his knees to free his cock before searching for Even’s swollen entrance with his fingers. 

“Is this okay?” he asked once he found it, his hand once again rubbing soothing circles into Even’s hips. Even nodded frantically. 

Isak’s hands were shaking, but he pushed in steadily, burying his cock into another person for the first time in his life. Even’s body opened for him easily, like he was made for it, and they were moving together within minutes, still lying on their sides, each of Isak’s thrusts matched with one of Even’s. Isak wrapped his arms around Even’s front and held him tight, kissing his temple and his cheeks and his neck—any inch of bare skin he could reach—and Even returned the favor, grabbing Isak’s ass from behind and pulling him ever closer despite the fact that they were as close as two people could possibly be. 

Isak came first that night and it felt like his orgasm was punched out of him as he spilled into Even’s body. Even brought himself off seconds later with Isak’s name on his lips. 

Even once they were both sated, they didn’t separate for a long time, just laid there, arms wrapped around each other tightly so that the world couldn’t force them apart, sharing one bed and one body and one heart. 


	3. Chapter 3

The days that followed were some of the best of Isak’s life. Not only because he was having sex regularly, but because he had finally found someone to whom his soul sang. He hadn’t known happiness until he felt this happiness. He hadn’t known love until he met Even. They never talked about what they were or what they would be when their time together finally ran out, but Isak couldn’t imagine that Even didn’t feel for Isak what Isak felt for him. It was unfathomable. 

Every spare second they had, they spent with each other—running their now familiar path down to the lake, lounging by the pool while Even bounced ideas off of Isak for hours, heading into town for ice cream or books or nothing at all, and then at night, when everyone else was sleeping, they would come to each other and make themselves whole, over and over, trying to satisfy an insatiable longing to stay in the other’s arms forever. 

And yet still, doubt began to creep in. Because while Even spent almost every night with Isak, there were some nights that he didn’t spend at the Valtersens’ at all. Some nights when he would sneak out after dinner, telling Isak he had to work for a few hours, and then not come back until dawn. 

While Isak didn't actually think Even was out having sex with someone else—not when he looked at him with so much love and devotion sometimes that it was staggering—he didn't know what else he could be doing. His curiosity finally got the best of him one night a week later when it was after midnight and Even still hadn’t come home to share his bed. It wasn't like he owed him anything—Isak understood that—but their days together were numbered and Isak didn't understand why Even would waste even one with something that didn't matter. So he pulled out his phone and texted him, not caring how desperate it sounded to be begging him to come home late into the night. 

_Where are you?_

It was the first text he'd ever sent him and he didn't like the look of it on the screen. It was as if they'd been holed away all summer, frozen in time without any interference from the outside world, and suddenly he'd let it back in again. 

Even replied quickly. _At the beach. I didn't realize it was so late. I'll be home soon._ The beach? What the fuck was he doing at the beach in the middle of the night? Before Isak could ponder it too much, however, another message came through. _Or you could join me._

Isak sighed heavily, not really wanting to climb out of his clean, comfortable bed and trek out to the beach, but already knowing he was going to do it anyway. He kicked his covers off and slipped on a pair of sandals, not even bothering to change out of his pajamas, but he did have the foresight to grab a jacket, knowing that no matter how hot it got outside, the wind coming off of the water was brutal this time of night. 

He stepped out of his house, shutting the door softly behind him, and then walked until the sound of crickets was replaced by the thunder of waves crashing against the rocky shore. He found Even easily as he was the only other person in sight. He was sitting on top of a rocky outcropping over the water, his head bent over what looked to be a notebook in his lap. Isak stood back for several long seconds and just stared at him, his heart feeling just as full as the moon in the sky above him. 

Even was impossibly beautiful, sitting there bathed in moonlight, and Isak knew that once he was gone, there was nothing that would be able to convince him that he had ever been real in the first place. One person couldn't get this lucky—surely the universe wouldn't allow it. 

He climbed up the rock, slippery with seawater, and once Even noticed him, he set his notebook off to the side and offered Isak a hand, pulling him up the rest of the way. Isak folded into his side immediately to protect himself from the wind and felt Even chuckle as he wrapped his arm around him. They didn't say anything for a long time, just stared out over the moonlit water, entranced, but eventually Even nudged Isak just a little bit closer so that he could grab his notebook. He resumed his writing as Isak stayed cuddled into his side. 

"Is this what you've been doing when you disappear for hours?" He asked, waiting until Even's hand had stalled at the end of a sentence so he wouldn't break his concentration. 

"Hm?" Even asked, looking over at him, but then seemed to comprehend the question. "Oh, yeah. Working—I told you that. I like it here at night when it's quiet and there's no one around. It's beautiful. Helps me think." He paused, drawing Isak in so he could kiss the top of his head. "Why? Where did you think I was?" 

Isak debated not answering that question truthfully, but it was late and coming up with a believable lie would take too much work. "I thought you were off fucking someone else." 

He looked up at Even sheepishly to find his eyes widened in surprise. "Are you serious?" He chuckled. "Isak, I'm fucking _you_." Like the two were somehow mutually exclusive. "Why the hell would you let me fuck you if you thought I was fucking someone else?" 

Isak shrugged. "I mean, it's not like we’ve ever talked about it." Which was true. Their deadline didn't give them a lot of time to figure out labels, so Isak was happy just being Isak and Even, even if they would never be anything more. Even if Even was also fucking somebody else. 

"Are _you_ fucking someone else?" Even asked and the hint of panic in his voice made Isak smile. 

"No," he promised. "I don't want to fuck anyone but you." _Forever_ , he didn't say because that was time they did not have. 

"Well, good," Even huffed, like he had prepared a whole argument and was slightly frustrated that was all he got to use from it. "I don't want to fuck anyone but you either." 

Isak hid a smile in Even's shoulder and wrapped his arm around his waist, more than ready to sneak back inside and let Even fuck no one but him all night long, but it was pleasant outside, the steady rolling of the waves lulling them into a peaceful calm. 

"So are you revising your screenplay?" Isak asked after a few minutes, nodding down to where Even had finally abandoned his notebook and pen. 

"Yeah," he sighed. "Your dad liked the original, but I just couldn't shake what you said about how if you really loved someone, you would choose them and damn the consequences. Even if it ends up being a mistake, even if you regret it, even if you get hurt, at least you know. At least you loved enough to take that risk. I want this to be a love story." 

Isak thought about his words for a long time and wondered if Even could see the parallels. How they had chosen each other, despite everything, even though there was a very real risk it wasn't going to work out. Even though leaving him in just under a week's time was probably going to kill him—or at least kill who he had become over the endless summer days when his heart had found its purpose for the first time. 

"They still don't get their happily ever after though, do they?" he asked, already knowing the answer. Even looked over at him sadly, the sound of the waves crashing around them loud in Isak's ears as he replied in barely a whisper. 

"No, they don't." 

* 

No matter how hard he tried to stop it, time didn't slow. The hours kept flying by faster than they ever had before, and soon it was time for Even to leave the Valtersens' villa and travel to Rome where his debut film was screening at some posh cinema event he had been invited to. 

"You'll go with me?" Even asked one morning as they came in from their run, which had consisted mostly of making out in the quiet of the woods. 

"Not sick of me yet?" Isak joked, remembering the first conversation they'd had about this trip weeks earlier. 

"Not even close." 

While Isak would have done literally anything to convince his father to let him go, it turned out not to be necessary as he agreed without any qualms, even going so far as to book them a fancy hotel room for their stay. And then, miraculously, Isak was staring forward into two full days alone with Even. 

His last two days. 

Any time he let himself dwell on the fact that their time was almost up, the fissure across his heart cracked a little deeper, so he chose to ignore it. To pretend that the next two days would last a lifetime. 

The train ride was long, but still somehow not long enough, and although Isak was tired, he didn't dare sleep, scared of missing even a second of the precious little time he had left with Even. Instead, he stayed curled up at his side, their fingers laced tightly together. They were strangers here and even if they weren't, Even no longer worked for his father. They were free. Just in time to lose each other again. 

It was late when the train finally pulled into the station and Isak just let Even lead him, half-asleep, out into the night to get a cab. He was pretty sure he did drift off against Even's shoulder once they were settled inside, but the voices of Even and the cab driver filled his dreams anyway. 

"Your brother?" He heard the driver ask in Italian. 

Even huffed out a laugh. "No, no. My boyfriend, actually." 

"You're here on vacation?" 

"A short one, yes." 

"Ah, well, you came to the right place. Get a good lasagna and a cannoli in him and he'll fall even more in love with you." Even laughed, probably because he knew it was true. "And," the cab driver continued in a suggestive drawl. "I know a lovely little ring shop, if you’re looking for one. They'll give you a good deal if you tell them I sent you." 

Even was quiet for several seconds. "Maybe next time," he finally said, carding his fingers through Isak's hair. 

Isak heard nothing more after that and sank into a deeper sleep until Even woke him at the hotel. "Up you go," he chuckled, practically pushing Isak out of the cab. 

Isak checked them in at the front desk since his Italian was better and the room was in his father's name, and then the two of them climbed the stairs to their room, both thoroughly exhausted. 

"Why am I so tired?" Isak huffed as Even fought to get the door unlocked. "We've literally done nothing today." 

Even smiled down at him just as the door clicked open. "Traveling will do that to you." 

They stepped into the room, turned on the lights, and although Isak didn't see anything amiss, Even froze just inside the door. 

"What's wrong with you?" Isak chuckled, pushing past him and jumping face-first onto the king-sized bed they'd been given. 

"There's only one bed," Even said stupidly. Isak rolled onto his back to cock an eyebrow at him. 

"We've shared a bed for the past two weeks, Even," he chuckled. "Were you planning to kick me out now?" 

Even rolled his eyes and finally stepped fully into the room. "No," he said in the most exasperated voice Isak had ever heard him use. "But your father is the one who booked this room." 

Isak grimaced, trying to commiserate with Even's pain, but he must not have looked too surprised because Even threw his arms up in exasperation. 

"You knew?" he cried, throwing himself onto the bed next to Isak. 

Isak shrugged. "I mean, I suspected. He's a smart man, Even." 

"Yeah," he sighed, "but we were _so_ careful." Isak snorted. "What? We were!" 

Isak turned so that he was looking at Even next to him on the bed and reached out to try to soothe the flushed skin on his cheeks. "I mean, if you consider being careful not having sex on top of the dining room table, then sure. We were careful." Even opened his mouth to argue, but Isak barreled on. "Come on, Even. The two of us were together more than we weren't. Whenever we got within two feet of each other, you made sure you were touching me in some way. And you changed your whole fucking screenplay because of a suggestion _I_ made." 

"It was a good suggestion," he argued and Isak just laughed. 

"Maybe my dad just made a mistake with the reservation," he offered, hoping that would at least make him feel a little better, even if it wasn't true. "And even if he does know, he obviously doesn't give a shit or he would have booked us two beds." 

Even stayed lost in his own mind for quite a while before sighing. "I mean, he _did_ invite me back for Christmas, so maybe he doesn't hate me too much." Isak shook his head at Even's ridiculousness, but chose not to comment.

After a few minutes, Even climbed off of the bed and dragged their bags further into the room, unpacking his suit and hanging it in the closet so it wouldn’t wrinkle. Isak watched him as he wandered around the room, organizing his things how he liked them, and tried not to think about how this might be the only chance he had to soak up the domestic bliss. 

"Do you want dinner or do you want to sleep?" Even asked once he was done. "I heard that feeding you lasagna and cannolis would make you fall in love with me." Isak snorted, as if the thought were ridiculous—and it was, but only because he had fallen in love weeks ago. 

"I'm not hungry," Isak admitted. "Although I could be talked into certain _other_ activities." 

Even laughed as he sat back down on the foot of the bed, grabbing Isak's toe playfully. "There will be plenty of time for that tomorrow," he said, sobering. Tomorrow. Their last day together. Isak's smile fell. "You're too tired tonight. I don't want you to fall asleep halfway through." 

"Why?" Isak asked, forcing himself to grin. "Not into that?" 

“I mean, I’ll be into whatever you want me to be into, but I prefer you awake so that I can hear the way you scream my name when you come.” He jumped playfully onto Isak then, smacking kisses all along his face and neck, and Isak screamed, just like Even wanted him to. 

They changed into their pajamas and stood next to each other as they brushed their teeth in the bathroom, and then, as the clock continued to count down the seconds, they climbed into bed together and did nothing but kiss for a small eternity. 

“I don’t ever want tomorrow to get here,” Isak admitted into the darkness. It was the first acknowledgement either of them had made that they understood the reality of their situation. 

“I know,” Even agreed, nuzzling into his neck. “I don’t either.” 

They fell asleep, limbs tangled around each other, and Isak dreamed of a future where they were together for all time. 

* 

While the two boys had certainly been sexually adventurous in their short time together—trying to cram a lifetime of experiences into only a handful of days—they had not yet had the luxury of being able to wake up in each other’s arms and just stay there as the hours drifted by, basking in the company of someone else who had nothing to do. So that’s what they did the next morning. 

Isak was awoken by the feel of Even’s fingers tracing down the lines of his face. He kept his eyes closed and just let Even map him out. He traced over Isak’s eyebrows, along his temples, down his cheekbones. He ran his fingers lightly over Isak’s eyelashes and down his nose. He traced the outline of his lips over and over, like he was trying to memorize the shape of them. When Isak thought he had probably had his fill, he puckered his lips, kissing Even’s fingers, and then opened his eyes. 

“Good morning,” Even whispered and he looked so beautiful with his face washed in the orange glow of the early morning sunlight. _I want to remember him like this_ , Isak decided. _Beautiful and happy and loved._ He reached out and began tracing the planes of Even’s face, just like he had done to him, understanding the urge now when he hadn’t before. 

“Good morning,” he whispered. “Have you been up long?” 

Even shook his head. “Only a few minutes. Sorry for waking you, but I didn’t want you to sleep through the day when—” _When it’s our last one_. Isak nodded, trying to keep the sadness off of his face. “I wish we didn’t have to go to that screening tonight,” Even continued. “I just want to stay here with you.” 

“That’s a lie,” Isak huffed out a laugh. “This screening is all you’ve talked about for weeks.” 

Even grinned sheepishly. “Maybe,” he shrugged. “But I wish it wasn’t today.” 

They filled their morning with long, slow kisses, neither caring that their breath was still stale from the day before, and when their bodies were both trembling from trying to hold back their release, they moved to the bathroom where Isak fell to his knees beneath a steaming shower and took Even into his mouth. 

Isak still wasn’t great at blowjobs and it hurt, just a bit, to know that after today he wasn’t going to be able to practice anymore. There was a coordination required that he never could quite get the hang of (although Even told him it was only because he was overthinking it) and his gag reflex was way more sensitive than Even’s was. Even never complained though and as Isak sucked him off, a steady stream of water coming down onto his back, he thought he might be getting better at it because Even was moaning louder, tangling his fingers in Isak’s hair harder, and when he spilled down Isak’s throat, he did so without warning, like he hadn’t expected to come so soon. 

Isak smiled up at him smugly because that was something he’d been trying to do all summer, but Even quickly wiped that smug smile off of his face by sinking to the tile floor next to him, grabbing Isak’s ridiculously hard dick in his hand, and returning the favor, only better and with more gusto. 

After, they both lay sprawled on the floor of the shower for several minutes, slowly recovering, before forcing themselves to get up and actually clean themselves. Even obviously thought Isak was being too slow, however, because he took it upon himself to wash Isak’s hair and Isak practically purred the entire time. 

They had each brought a suit for the occasion but, as it turns out, only one tie. It was a blue one of Isak’s and he gave it to Even without argument since he was the one people would be looking at anyway. Even thanked him with a peck on the lips and then Isak continued getting himself ready, only to walk back into the room ten minutes later to find Even still fiddling with the tie around his neck. 

“Oh my god,” Isak snorted. “Even! Do you not know how to tie a tie?” 

“I do,” Even sputtered indignantly, once again failing to get the tie tied. “Okay, I don’t. Can you help me?” 

Isak rolled his eyes, but was strangely pleased to find that Even needed him for something, even if it was for something as innocuous as tying a tie. “This can’t be your first movie screening,” Isak said, taking the two ends of the tie in his hands and crossing them over each other with well-practiced ease. “What did you do for those?” 

Even smirked up at him, his blue eyes shining. “Clip-on.” 

“You’re a grown ass man, Even,” Isak scolded. “You need to learn how to tie a fucking tie.” 

“I’ve got you for that though,” he responded, nuzzling closer to him. Isak had to push him away playfully so that he could see what he was doing. He folded the material with military-like precision, determined that Even would have the best looking tie in the whole place. 

“There,” he finally said, patting it against Even’s chest. “Done.” Instead of stepping back, however, he let his fingers wander up to Even’s neck and pull him down into yet another kiss. 

“You’re not allowed to leave my side all night, okay?” Even said when Isak finally broke away, pulling him close so that he could brush a stray curl out of his eyes. Isak nodded. He hadn’t planned on wandering off anyway. 

“Why?” he joked. “Scared of all the important people?” 

Even smiled, but shook his head. “No,” he said. “I just don’t want to spend one second away from you.” 

* 

The screening took place at an old cinema on the other side of the city that had been rented out for the occasion. It was packed when they arrived and Isak was immediately overwhelmed by the people, but Even, seeming to sense that, took his hand and didn’t let go of it for the rest of the night. 

Even pulled over friends and colleagues so that they could meet Isak, like be was a permanent fixture in his life, not just a summer fling, and although he introduced him only as “Isak”, he wasn’t stingy with his affection, placing kisses on his cheek whenever someone would mention how cute they were together, and pulling him closer when the crowd came bearing down on them. For one night, Isak got to feel what it would be like to date Even Bech Næsheim for real—and it was glorious. 

They were given seats in the first row to watch the film and Isak was mesmerized before the opening credits were even over. The fact that Even had not only _written_ the story, but produced and directed it as well—he forgot sometimes just how much he had accomplished already in his life, but far from making Isak feel inadequate, it made him proud that someone like that could love him. _Might_ love him, he corrected himself, his heart skipping a beat in his chest. He might not ever know for sure. 

Sensing his change in mood, Even pulled him closer until Isak was tucked into his side where he stayed for the rest of the film, letting Even trace lines on the back of his hand and play with his fingers, painting promises on them of what was coming later that night if he could only be patient. 

Isak hadn’t thought it was possible, but each of the 83 minutes in Even’s film made him fall just a little more in love. 

Once it was over, Even had to let go of Isak’s hand to do a brief question and answer session with the audience, but after that, he returned to Isak’s side, lacing their fingers together like that was where they belonged. He dragged Isak with him as he did his obligatory rounds one last time and then, miraculously, it was time for them to leave. 

It wasn’t easy to escape. Every single person they spoke to invited them out for coffee or drinks—but Even was quick to decline. “It’s our last night together,” he told them, making Isak blush and the old ladies coo in delight. 

“Why did you have to say _that_ of all things?” Isak asked as they finally stepped out of the muggy movie house and into twilit night. 

Even chuckled. “It was the truth.” 

“Yeah, but you made it sound so suggestive. _It’s our last night together_. They know we’re going back to the hotel to have sex!” 

“Isak,” Even said, grabbing him by the shoulders to stop his rant in the middle of the street. “We _are_ going back to the hotel to have sex. Dirty, filthy, fuck-your-brains-out sex. Sex that you’ll _never_ forget.” 

Isak pouted, but he knew his blush was giving away his excitement. “Yeah, but they didn’t need to know that.” 

Even cocked his head, clearly amused. “I want _everyone_ to know.” 

Before heading back to the hotel, they wandered some of the piazzas close by, allowing Even to bask in the wonders of Italy for just a little while longer, although he swore the scenery wasn’t what he wanted most that night. 

“Just let me show you around,” Isak sighed. “I’d feel like a horrible tour guide if I brought you to Rome and all you saw was the inside of a hotel room.” 

“Isak,” Even said fondly. “You’re kidding yourself if you think I can see anything but you right now.” And because Isak couldn’t be expected to hear something like that and then _not_ give Even exactly what he wanted, they compromised. Isak dragged him into a deserted alley and let Even push him up against the brick wall and kiss him like he had never been kissed before, right out there in the open where anyone could see them. They were standing next to a bakery that smell liked freshly baked bread and they could hear a group of drunk men singing drinking songs a few streets over. As far as authentic Italian experiences went, it would have to do. 

Even kissed him like he was trying to consume him and Isak kissed back just as ferociously, but allowed Even to take the lead. Even, however, couldn’t seem to decide what exactly he wanted. His hands started in Isak’s hair, but then moved to cup his cheeks, using his thumb to open his mouth wider, to kiss him deeper. From there they wandered down Isak’s chest and across his hips before finally settling on the back of his thighs where they tapped a few impatient beats against his leg. Isak followed his cues instantly, wrapping his legs around Even’s waist so that he could pick him up and press his back even more firmly against the wall. The force of it startled a gasp out of Isak and the two of them broke apart, breathing heavily. 

Even was standing so close that Isak knew his eyes crossed as he tried to focus on him, but he was already too far gone to care and, judging by the dark pits in Even’s eyes, he was too. “Can I take you back to the hotel now?” Even begged. Isak, not trusting himself to speak, only nodded. 

The ten-minute walk took at least twice as long because they had to stop every couple of minutes to make out just a little bit more. It was like Isak was caught up in a vortex of Even and he couldn’t escape. He was all he could see, all he could feel, all he could think about. He paid no mind to the fact that they were being _that couple_ —the one so disgustingly in love that it turned everyone’s stomachs because they either didn’t know what it felt like, or remembered, and looked back on the memory with regret. 

They were both fully hard by the time they crashed into their hotel room and they threw each other’s suits off quickly, dropping them into a messy pile on the floor with no care whatsoever. Isak was only half undressed when Even pushed him down onto the bed and started sucking bruises into his neck, but he wasn’t about to complain. 

He rooted towards Even’s mouth like a flower towards the sun and when Even was done with the first bruise, Isak asked for another. “Here,” he said, touching the bare skin right above his heart. “Mark me here.” And Even did, leaving a fierce purple bruise that Isak knew would linger for weeks after he was gone—which, of course, had been his motivation all along. 

Once that was done, they quickly divested themselves of the rest of their clothes, Isak laughing as it took Even almost as long to wrangle himself out of his tie as it had taken to get him in it. Finally, Isak took pity on him and loosened it himself. “You should stick to clip-ons,” he whispered against Even’s lips and the boy laughed, the sound lighting up what had become a very dark room. 

After that, however, the heaviness sank back into the air and they could both feel it, reaching out to suffocate them. Even cupped Isak’s face in his hand, using his thumb to stroke across his cheekbones. “Don’t be sad,” he said and Isak nodded, although he knew that was one promise he wouldn’t be able to keep. 

Even dove in and started kissing him once more, trying to loosen some of the muscles that the fear of separating had hardened, and, after a few minutes, it began to work. _This is all you get. One last time. Don’t waste it._ “How do you want to do this? Do _you_ want to fuck _me_?” Even asked breathlessly a few minutes later, knowing without Isak having ever told him that that was the way he preferred it if given the choice. He liked to feel Even beneath him, yielding to his body, allowing Isak to take, but also trusting him enough not to take more than he was willing to give. He felt powerful molding their bodies into one person—he felt loved, and it was the one way he knew how to show Even that he was loved too. _Your body is my body and my body is yours._

Tonight, however, that was not what he wanted. “I don’t think I can,” he admitted, holding up his shaking hand for Even to see. Isak was absolutely terrified—more terrified even than he had been the very first time that they did this—only this time he wasn’t scared of the act itself, he was scared of the finality of it. Even kissed his palm and then laced their fingers together, steadying him against his own body. 

“Okay.” 

He drove Isak nearly to madness as he opened his body up for him, taking his time, savoring it, until Isak’s trembling was no longer from fear, but from desire. It was the kind of desire you felt you might die from if it wasn’t satisfied—and soon. 

As Even pushed into him for what very well might be the last time, something inside of Isak broke and he clung to Even like he was the last solid thing in his universe as tears began to slowly trek down his cheeks. He hadn’t planned to cry, at least not while Even was still there to see him, but the thought of living without this—living without _him_ —felt like he was losing more than a lover. It felt like he was losing a part of his soul, a part of himself. 

Even kissed the tears off of his face as he continued to rock into his body slowly, over and over, like waves washing against the shore. Isak knew it would take a long time for him to get off like this, with no direct stimulation and only the drag of Even’s cock inside of him to keep that fire burning, but he thought that might be the point. 

Even lavished kisses all over Isak’s face, but when he found his lips, Isak didn’t let him go. He pulled him in closer and let their tongues dance together until his lips were numb and swollen under Even’s attention. He wanted everything in that moment—he wanted a lifetime—but he knew this was all he was going to get. 

Even’s orgasm was tame that night. There was no crying or screaming, only the soft whisper of Isak’s name into his ear, sending a shiver down his body as Even spilled inside of him. Isak decided right then not to clean it up, to let a part of Even stay with him, maybe forever, and when Even used his hand and his mouth to bring Isak to his own orgasm not even a minute later, come painting his pale stomach, he decided not to clean that up either. 

After, they lay facing each other in bed, so close that they were breathing the same air. “Do you think,” Isak started when the silence started to feel damning, “that it’s possible to be both happy and sad at the same time?” Even was older. He would know. 

Even reached out and brushed Isak’s hair off of his forehead so that he could place a kiss there. Although he hadn’t cried like Isak—and Isak didn’t really expect him to—there was an underlying darkness to his eyes, a sadness there that Isak hadn’t seen even a hint of in the past six weeks. “I know it is,” he whispered, like it was a secret only for the two of them. “Why do you ask?” 

Isak swallowed hard against the knot forming in his throat. “Because I’ve never been this happy before, but I don’t think I’ve ever been this sad either.” 

“Isak,” Even sighed, caressing his name on his tongue. “We need to talk about this. I’m leaving tomorrow.” He lifted himself up on his elbow to look at something over Isak’s head and then corrected himself. “ _Today_. We’re out of time.” 

Isak’s stomach dropped, the sadness overtaking the happiness in that moment, and shook his head vehemently. If they didn’t talk about it, it wasn’t real. It wouldn’t be over. 

“There are ways for this to work,” Even continued, pleading. 

“How?” Isak snapped. “You’re going back to London and I’m stuck here.” 

“Only for another month, but in the fall—” 

“In the fall I’ll be at university in Oslo and you'll _still_ be in London—1153 kilometers away.” Even bit his bottom lip, but didn’t seem surprised that Isak knew that. Maybe he had looked it up too. 

“I’m _from_ Oslo, though,” Even said eventually. “I have an apartment there. I—” 

“Even,” Isak interrupted him and this time, he was the one that was pleading. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around Even’s wrist, feeling the beat of his heart through the thin skin there. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to taint whatever this summer has been with conversations about what could be. I just want to enjoy this one last night with you and if that’s all we ever have, maybe it’ll be enough.” 

Even looked at him doubtfully and Isak saw in his eyes what he knew in his heart: it would never be enough. But, miraculously, he didn’t press the subject. Instead, he pulled Isak to his chest and held him like it would be the last time, and although it was the most familiar thing in his life in that moment, he knew in his heart that nothing would ever be the same. He wanted to go back to that first day—to watching Even climb out of that taxi—and replay everything from the start. He wanted to meet him again, to maybe make a move on him sooner so that they could have more time—even if it was only a day. But now, finally, their time was up and there was no winding back the clock. 

As he drifted off into an uneasy sleep, he prayed that, if nothing else, Even always remembered that there was a little piece of him that belonged to Isak alone. 

* 

Isak awoke slowly the next morning, trying to prolong the moment before his world came to an end, but when he finally opened his eyes, he found that it was already over. The hotel room was empty. 

He thought that it must be a mistake—that Even was just in the shower or smoking out on the balcony—but then he realized that the sun was already high in the sky and that the alarm on his phone had been turned off. 

He curled up into a ball on the bed, cradling the sheets that still smelled like Even to his chest, and he cried, his heart breaking inside of him. 

It must have been an hour later before he was able to get himself under control and it was only then, once he was no longer blinded by tears, that he noticed the piece of paper sitting atop Even’s abandoned pillow. He opened it and he read: _Forgive me for being a coward, but I don’t think I could live through saying goodbye. I will choose you, Isak Valtersen, always and forever. Choose me._

* 

It was Isak’s father that came to pick him up from the train station, which he was grateful for. His father, like him, wasn’t much of a talker and he figured that after a brief exchanging of pleasantries, he would be able to rest his head on his seatbelt and pretend to sleep. What he’d forgotten, however, was what Even had been so fearful of the day before: his father _knew_ and, therefore, didn’t want to leave Isak alone with his pain. 

“Did Even get off alright?” he asked once they were back in the car. 

Isak nodded absently. “I guess. He left the hotel early this morning.” 

Terje paused and although Isak wasn’t watching him, he knew his eyebrows would be furrowed together in confusion. “You didn’t want to go to the airport and see him off?” 

“I would have loved that,” Isak admitted bitterly. “He didn’t exactly give me the choice.” 

They pulled out onto the main road and Isak watched as the countryside flew by next to him. It was beautiful, but he wasn’t able to appreciate it without thinking of kissing Even for the first time on the cliffs overlooking these same hills, of biking down these same roads. He wondered if he would be haunted with those memories forever and thought the answer was probably yes. 

“I know it seems impossible now,” Terje said after a few minutes. “But what you two had was special. That’s something not everyone in this world is given and few more than once. Don’t let it die.” 

“How though?” Isak snapped, not caring that he sounded desperate. “He’s in London and I’m in Oslo and—” 

“There are universities in London, just like there are universities in Oslo,” Terje replied with a small smile. “But even without that, modern technology is a magnificent thing. You can talk on the phone, you can text, you can video chat. The world is only as large as you let it become.” And sitting there next to his father, staring out at the landscape where he had fallen in love for the first time, he started to think that maybe, just maybe, they could make this work. 

* 

The first thing Isak did when he got home was run to his room— _Even’s_ room—wanting to roll in his bed and be enveloped in Even's scent one last time, so that maybe he could pretend that he was still there, just out for a swim, but would be back soon. When he walked in, however, he found that the bed had already been stripped and that his things had already been moved back in from the guestroom. Even was gone, leaving no trace that he had ever been there at all. 

It was only later, as Isak was unpacking the clothes he brought to Rome, that he found something that didn’t belong to him hanging in his closet: an old, faded blue swim suit that still smelled like Even. 


	4. Chapter 4

Isak thought he would probably have to wait a few days—maybe even weeks—to hear from Even again, but to his surprise, he called right after landing in England. 

“No, the flight was shit,” he said when Isak asked and then they were both quiet as they tried to remember what they had in common besides this place and each other. Isak heard a loud horn blare from Even’s end of the line and it was jarring, thinking of him in some bustling city when he’d only ever seen him under the Italian sun. “Listen, Isak, I’m sorry I just left this morning. I know you’re probably mad at me—” 

“I’m not mad,” Isak interrupted. 

Even was quiet for a long time. “I miss you,” he finally said. 

“I miss you too.” 

That phone call opened up a correspondence between them that lasted for the next several months. They called, they texted, they Skyped. Even even sent him a couple of handwritten letters, probably because he was the type of person that thought shit like that was romantic. Although they weren’t _love_ letters, exactly, there was something about reading words written in Even’s painstakingly neat handwriting that made Isak think it was romantic too. 

They never talked about their relationship or what they were to each other—Even never came to Oslo and Isak never went to London—but there was an underlying heaviness to every word they exchanged. An understanding that one day—maybe even one day soon—they would be together again. It was a thought that kept Isak up at night, a thought that kept him going even on his worst days, and even though he liked UiO, he found himself perusing the websites of London universities, trying to figure out whether his credits would transfer. 

He mentioned the possibility of transferring to Even over the phone in passing one afternoon as he lay sprawled out on his bed, FIFA paused on the TV in front of him. Even was quiet for a long time before finally responding, “Promise me you’ll talk to me before you do anything like that. Please?” He didn’t sound mad or even opposed to the idea, but his reticence still worried Isak. Had he changed his mind? Did he not want this anymore? 

Isak discovered the truth from his father about a month later when he came home for their weekly family dinner. “Has Even told you yet?” he asked, practically vibrating with excitement. It was rare that Even’s name was mentioned at their dinner table these days, so Isak turned to him in surprise. 

“Told me what?” 

Isak listened, his heart sinking deeper into his chest at each word, as Terje recounted how some big studio in Hollywood had bought the rights to the movie Even had spent the summer writing and how they had hired him to direct it. 

“He’s moving to California?” 

“Only for a year,” Terje brushed him off. “But don’t tell him I told you. I’m sure he will want to tell you himself.” 

Only he never did. In all of their texts and phone calls and letters, Even never once mentioned that the 1153 kilometers between them was about to get a whole lot bigger. With a heavy heart, Isak stopped looking for universities in London. 

In the weeks leading up to Christmas, Isak made himself sick imagining what it would be like to see Even again—to face him with this promise of forever sitting between them still unfulfilled. He found himself replaying the minutes, the hours, the days that they spent together over the summer—what it felt like to touch him beneath the crystalline blue waters of their pool, how it felt to run next to him down well-trodden paths, kicking up dirt in their wakes, how it felt to kiss him, to love him, to be inside of him. It became an obsession, the remembering, and he worried, more than anything, that something between them would have fundamentally changed—that they had become different people in the intervening months—but when he spotted Even’s taxi pull up in the exact same spot it had six months before and saw him struggle to get out of it without banging his head, Isak knew that nothing had changed at all. 

His heart leapt, trying to rip out of his chest to meet its other half, and, to Isak’s surprise, he found himself following it. He ran out of the front door of the villa, ignoring his mom yelling for him to slow down, and bounded straight into Even’s unsuspecting arms. 

Even laughed and lifted him off of the ground, burying his face in Isak’s neck immediately. “I missed you so fucking much,” he breathed, so softly that it was barely a whisper, and when he set Isak back on the ground, he kissed him hard on the mouth without any shame or hesitation. Isak was blushing when he finally pulled away and looked up at Even in awe, not quite believing that he was really there. His blue eyes stared back, just as enraptured with Isak, and he wasn’t sure how he could have ever let himself believe that this feeling would go away. 

In that moment, he didn’t care that their time was, once again, limited. That Even was leaving Italy in only a couple days, and the continent two weeks after that. All he cared about was that they were back together, holding each other in their arms, and that, for at least one more night, they could become one once more. 

Terje and Marianne were waiting at the door to greet Even themselves, Marianne giving him a hug of her own, and Terje opining immediately about how proud he was of him and how he had always known he would be able to break out in Hollywood. Even threw a wary glance in Isak’s direction, but accepted the praise nevertheless. 

The plan was for Even to stay in Isak’s room, just as he had the summer before, but this time Isak hadn’t bothered to move his own things out and his father hadn’t made him. He went with Even to set his stuff down and took a seat on the bed as Even began wandering the room, tracing his hands over the once familiar surfaces. 

“So, you’re moving to America,” he said, wanting to get it out there right away. He wanted Even to know that he knew, so that he wouldn’t waste their day worrying about telling him. 

“I am,” Even agreed, chewing on his bottom lip sheepishly as he turned to face Isak. “Just for a year.” 

“I’m proud of you,” Isak said, and even though the reality of their situation hurt, that didn’t make the statement any less true. 

“Yeah?” Even asked, like he hadn’t dared to believe it. 

Isak nodded. “Yeah.” 

They ate dinner with Isak’s parents, just as they had done countless times before, but the rest of the night was theirs. Wanting to be alone, they went to the beach and walked along the shoreline with their hands laced tightly together, the wind whipping their hair into tangles. 

“Do you ever regret it?” Isak asked as they walked, ignoring a question Even had asked about his classes for the upcoming semester. 

Even didn’t bother playing stupid. “I don’t regret that it happened, but I do regret the distance I’ve put between us now.” He stopped walking and turned Isak so that he was facing him. “Were you really looking at universities in London?” Isak didn’t see any reason to lie, so he nodded. 

“But Even, this is an opportunity you can’t turn down. Even if you wanted to, I wouldn’t let you.” 

“I know that,” Even agreed. “I just wish things were different.” 

Although Even never said anything, it hurt Isak just a bit to know that if he and Even were the same age, things would be easier. Isak wouldn’t be tied down with school and he would have his own money to travel as he liked. But then again, who’s to say those extra seven years wouldn’t have changed him into someone unrecognizable? Someone who didn’t look at Even and feel their world quake around them, ready to open up and swallow them whole. 

“I don’t want you to wait for me,” Even decided, running his thumb along Isak’s cheek. “You’re young. You deserve to be happy.” 

“ _You_ are what makes me happy,” he admitted and Even’s face broke as he pulled him in for a wet kiss that made Isak’s stomach flip. 

They snuck back into the villa long after it had gotten dark and Isak took Even by the hand and led him down the winding hallways to the bedroom that they would share. He locked the door once they were inside, although he knew his parents wouldn’t dare bother them, and then he kissed Even like he had been wanting to for months. 

They came together like magnets, drawn to each other by some invisible force that they couldn’t control, and as Isak pushed Even down on the bed and stripped him of his clothes, he began to feel more like himself with Even so near. When he was gone, there was this gaping hole inside of his heart, but now, with each lingering kiss, the hole was shrinking, making him stronger. 

He took his time fingering Even that night, not necessarily to make it last, but because he thought—hoped, maybe—that it had been a while since he had done this. “Do we need…?” he asked, trailing off as he looked over to his bedside table where he had stocked a box of condoms, just in case. 

Seeming to catch his meaning, Even shook his head, leaning up to kiss Isak’s lips. “I haven’t been with anyone since you,” he admitted. 

Isak hid his smile in Even’s shoulder. “Me neither.” 

When Isak pushed inside of him, it felt like the world was caving in until it was just the two of them left, seeking solace in each other’s bodies, and this time, it didn’t feel like a goodbye. Isak made love to him in time to their heartbeats, slow at first, but then faster as they each got closer to the edge, and Even held him through it, his hands dancing across the bare planes of his back. 

They weren’t quiet—didn’t even try to be—and it brought Isak back to that night when they had lain in separate rooms and touched themselves to only the sounds of the other’s pleasure. Isak came with a cry and watched in fascination as Even spilled right after him, like he had been holding off so that they could come together. 

They didn’t separate for a long time—long enough that Isak started to get hard inside of Even once more—but he was in no hurry to do so. Let them share a body for a little while longer. 

Isak was lying sprawled out on Even’s chest when the older man spoke into the deathly quiet room. “I didn’t know it could be like this,” he admitted. Isak, too drained to form actual words, hummed in question. “Sex, you, all of it. I didn’t know it could feel like this. I didn’t know it was possible.” 

Isak thought back to the words his father had told him on the day Even left the first time: _It’s something not everyone in this world is given and few more than once._ He curled into Even’s body tighter, suddenly knowing with utmost certainty that he would never love like this again. It wasn’t a sad thought, though. It was satisfying in a way to know that this relationship he’d chosen at such a young age would be the most important one in his life. Whether he wanted it to be or not. 

* 

When it came time for Even to leave a few days later, Terje and Marianne said their goodbyes inside the house and sent Isak out to walk him to the car. He helped Even load his bags into the trunk of the taxi and then stood back, not quite knowing what to expect. The last time they had separated, they had known they would meet again. This time, they had no plans, just an endless future stretching out before them, and yet, it still didn’t feel like a goodbye. Isak wasn’t sad. He didn’t feel like crying. 

“Good luck in America,” he said when Even finally turned his attention back to him. For the first time, he realized that Even’s eyes were glassier than they usually were, like this time it was he who was holding back tears. Without warning, he reached out and reeled Isak into a crushing hug, burying his face in the crook of Isak’s neck. Isak did what he could to soothe him, kissing the top of his head and running his hands along Even’s back, but he wasn’t sure it helped. It felt like several eternities later before Even pulled away. 

“I’ll miss you,” he said and Isak smiled at him sadly because he knew it was true. 

“I’ll miss you too.” 

Even took one last long look at him, memorizing the shape of his body, then he kissed him once on the forehead and left for another world with only a soft, whispered, “I love you.” 

* 

Isak went back to Oslo, Even moved to America, and the world kept spinning. 

They still talked on the phone, still texted, but after a few months, their correspondence started coming less and less. Even was busy and Isak was too, and slowly the sands of time weathered the foundation of what they had built. That summer in Italy suddenly felt a lifetime away and when Isak lay in bed alone each night, it was hard to ignore the ice cold chill of loneliness that would wash over him when he thought about Even and what they could have been. The love never left, but at a certain point it became too hard to stare at Even’s words and face the reality that he was thousands of miles away, living his own life, maybe not thinking about Isak at all. Isak became bitter, not at Even, but at the world for giving him a love like no other and then taking it away. 

Even called him the day that he moved back to London, but as Isak stared at his phone, he realized that answering it would change nothing. Yes, the distance between them was shorter now, but it was still _there_ , taunting him. So he let it go to voicemail. He did the same the next day and the day after that until eventually, Even stopped calling altogether. And slowly, Isak managed to do the one thing he promised his father he wouldn’t: he let it die. 

* 

Eight months later, just as trailers for Even’s new movie started to pop up on the internet, Isak received a letter in the mail. There was no return address, but he recognized Even’s handwriting immediately. He tore it open with shaking hands. 

Inside was a fancy-looking, gold-leafed invitation to the London premiere of Even’s movie and a ticket to get in the door. There was also a curt, hand-written note without either greeting or signature: _I’ve sent one to your father as well. We don’t have to talk, but please come. This movie wouldn’t exist without you._

And because Isak didn’t think he was capable of denying Even anything, he went with his father by his side, acting as a crutch. 

Their seats were good, but as per Even’s promise, they were nowhere near his. Isak saw him, though, standing at the front of the room, laughing and conversing with colleagues just as he had done at a much smaller screening on a blisteringly hot night in Rome. Only this time, Isak was not standing at his side. He didn’t take his eyes off of Even once. Even from a distance he was still beautiful, still made everything inside of Isak long for him in ways he had never experienced before or since. 

It wasn’t until a voice came on the overhead speaker, asking everyone to find their seats, that Even looked away from the people he was talking to and glanced straight to where Isak was sitting with his father. Isak’s breath hitched in his throat as their eyes met across the crowded room and he saw Even’s eyes widen in surprise, like he hadn’t expected to see him. The corners of his mouth turned up in a small smile and he waved, not turning away until Isak found the strength to wave back. 

The movie itself was just as beautiful as Isak had imagined it would be when he read the first draft of it years before, although it took him a while to calm his nerves enough to actually pay attention and realize that. By some miracle, he managed to keep himself from sobbing at the ending, but his composure didn’t last long because no sooner had the screen faded to black than a dedication appeared that simply read: _For Isak_. 

The tears welling in Isak’s eyes overflowed as he felt his father clap him on the shoulder—whether to comfort or congratulate him, he wasn’t sure. He looked to where he knew Even was sitting and although the lights still hadn’t come up, he saw him there, his head turned, looking towards Isak. 

Even had called himself a coward once for leaving Isak without saying goodbye, and as Isak slunk out of the theater like a thief in the night, he felt cowardly too. But he knew that if he stayed, he would end up in Even’s bed. He would let him worm his way back into his heart and when they were forced to separate, yet again, he would take another piece of Isak’s soul with him. Isak was running out of pieces to give. 

* 

Isak was in his final year at university when the rumors started. It was just trashy gossip magazines and blurry photos at first, but eventually the pictures became clearer, the official statements were released, and Isak was forced to accept the fact that Even had moved on—to a beautiful movie star, no less. Sonja Something-or-Other. She wasn’t A-list by any means, but she had played Sofia in the film Even dedicated to Isak and it killed him a little bit that it was the film they had written together that allowed those two to meet. 

He tried not to dwell on it, tried not to let it bother him, but as he looked down at the stack of acceptance letters from medical schools in London, he felt it start to eat away at his gut, tearing up his insides like acid. 

_A love like that is something not everyone in this world is given and few more than once._ Isak always thought his dad meant you only got one person—a soulmate—but he was starting to think it was more complex than that. Isak had gotten a once-in-a-lifetime love, but he had let it slip through his fingers like water until there was nothing left of it. Maybe you only got one _opportunity_ , not one person. Maybe that summer in Italy was all he would ever have. 

* 

When Isak’s classes let out for winter break, he took the first flight out to Italy where his parents, now retired, were already waiting for him. He was surprised every time he came back at just how many memories were lurking inside the walls of the Valtersen villa. Even in the dead of winter when the air was cooler and there was no swimming or lounging by the pool, he could still see the ghost of Even everywhere. Most of the ghosts were pretty tame, but when Isak laid in bed at night, he was forever haunted by the memory of standing at his own balcony door and hearing Even say, “You came. I thought you might have changed your mind.” He replayed them making love for the first time over and over until it became a wound that just wouldn’t heal. While in his apartment in Oslo, he was able to forget, at least for a little while, but here, the memories lived on like they were corporeal beings. 

* 

Isak wasn’t expecting much as far as presents were concerned since his family had never been big on the whole gift-giving thing, which was why he was so surprised when his father set an envelope in front of him on Christmas morning. 

“It’s from Even,” Terje said before Isak could even ask. “He slipped it into a box of wines he sent for your mother and me. I told him I’d give it to you.” 

Isak stared at it, mouth agape for several long seconds. He simultaneously wanted to open it immediately and keep it sealed forever, scared of what was written inside. He compromised by pocketing the letter and telling himself he would open it later, away from the prying eyes of his parents. 

Although he could have easily found time to be alone earlier in the day, he didn’t muster the courage to face what was waiting for him until everyone else was settling into bed. It was only then, as he lay back against the very same pillows Even had once slept on, that he opened the envelope. To his surprise, there was not a letter inside, but a painting. 

It was small, only about the size of a postcard, and while Isak had known that Even could paint, he hadn’t known he could do it this well. It was a painting of the cliffside where they had shared their first kiss, all beautiful green hills and never-ending summer foliage. Looking at it, Isak could feel the summer breeze against his skin, could hear his heart racing as he lunged forward and chose Even for the first time. The rendering was so perfect that Isak had to wonder if Even had been back since. If he’d felt the ghosts of the two of them there, just as Isak had once imagined that they would. 

Isak stared at it for a long time, letting it attempt to mend his shattered heart. When he had finally looked his fill, he checked the envelope, searching for something— _anything—_ else, but there was nothing. It was only once he flipped the painting to the back that he found it: the echo of words written on a letter long ago. _I will choose you, Isak Valtersen, always and forever. Choose me._

Before Isak left Italy, he swallowed his pride and asked his father for Even’s address. 

* 

For the first time in four years, Isak skipped three days of class to travel to London to see Even. He didn’t plan on staying that long, but he knew he needed some time to prepare himself mentally for the battle he was about to step into. 

He tried to do his research before he went to make sure Even didn’t actually _live_ with his movie star girlfriend, but none of the gossip websites he clicked on could give him a definitive answer. What the internet _could_ tell him, however, was that Even was guest lecturing for an Advanced Filmmaking class at his alma mater this semester. The school’s website was very helpful—providing both class times and room numbers—which is how Isak found himself sneaking into the back of a crowded lecture hall a few days later, shutting the door quietly behind him so as not to draw attention to himself. 

That plan worked better in theory, however, because even though Isak was quiet, he was still _late_ and instantly attracted the attention of every single person in the room who was looking for something to distract them from the lecture. He quickly took an empty seat in the last row, but before he even looked up, he already knew it was too late because Even’s familiar voice had faltered mid-sentence and Isak knew he was the only thing that could distract him that badly. He looked up sheepishly to find Even’s blue eyes already staring back at him. 

The world narrowed until it was just the two of them, lost in space and time. While their faces and bodies might have aged, their eyes had stayed the same, and Isak got lost in the blue depths of Even’s, letting them drown him. Even just stood there, his mouth agape, like he was seeing the ghost of someone he had once loved dearly—or maybe that’s exactly what this was. 

“Hi,” Isak mouthed and that seemed enough to shake Even out of it. He took a few tremulous breaths, casting covert looks in Isak’s direction, and then went back to lecturing, immediately picking up right where he had left off, and although he still seemed shaken, he gave no outward signs that his heart was beating as painfully in his chest as Isak’s was. 

Isak let Even’s familiar voice wash over him, even though he was talking about pointless things like camera angles and foreshadowing, and it calmed him to hear him speak after all the years they’d spent apart. It had been a long time since he’d heard his voice and the sudden overwhelming urge came over him to hear Even say his name, just one more time. If he got only one thing out of today, let it be that. 

Even ended class early, but it seemed organic, like he had simply run out of things to say, not like he was trying to rush through the material. Isak hung back for a few minutes, letting the students approach him with questions, but when the last one made their way out of the auditorium, Isak stood and walked to the front of the classroom, feeling simultaneously excited and sick to his stomach. 

“You’ve finally taken an interest in cinematography, I see,” Even quipped when he was close enough, not looking up from the stack of papers he was sorting in front of him. Isak worried for a second that he was mad, but when he finally turned to him, Even was smiling brilliantly. 

Isak huffed out a laugh. “Well, between you and my father, I guess it was bound to happen eventually.” 

Even studied him long and hard, questions dancing across his face, but he didn’t seem to want to ask them there. “Come on,” he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.” 

* 

They ended up at Even’s apartment and Isak was awed at the sheer luxury of everything: the stainless steel appliances, the marble countertops, the painting of a familiar Italian countryside hanging in the living room that probably cost more than Isak paid in rent all year. He had forgotten, somehow, that Even was a bona fide director now, and with that came a pretty hefty paycheck. He thought it was probably a good thing that he hadn’t considered Even’s newfound success before coming because he doubted he would have had the guts to show up. _If he wasn’t out of my league before, he certainly is now_. 

Even made him coffee, just how he liked it, but Isak didn’t drink any, knowing it would make him even more jittery than he already was. 

“I can get you a beer if you’d like,” Even smirked around his own cup. “Or something stronger?” 

Isak blushed. “No, sorry, this is fine.” He took a long sip just to prove that it was. “I’m just nervous, I guess.” He hadn’t meant to say that aloud, but he’d learned a long time ago that the best way to get what he wanted out of Even was to just ask for it, so he couldn’t regret it when Even looked over at him and smiled. 

“I’m nervous too,” he admitted. “I wasn’t expecting to see you. Today or…ever, really.” He paused, looking over at Isak from beneath his long eyelashes. “You’ve gotten older,” he noted. 

Isak snorted. “Well, so have you.” 

“Yeah,” Even allowed with a laugh. “But the difference between mid-twenties and late-twenties isn’t nearly as noticeable as the difference been teenager and grown man.” There was no bashfulness as Even appraised him, just as he had the first day they met when Isak stood in front of him in only a bathing suit, and so Isak appraised him back. He didn’t look older, honestly. Sure, there were a few lines on his forehead and wrinkles around his eyes that hadn’t been there before, but in Isak’s mind he was still frozen as he had been the summer they spent together, only now his skin wasn’t as sun-kissed as he remembered it. He didn’t mind, though. The paleness suited him. 

“Did I grow up well?” he asked, emboldened by Even’s obvious interest. 

Even smirked. “You grew up _very_ well.” Isak blushed and tried to hide his smile, but he knew Even saw it anyway because he started laughing. 

Even then began talking about a new script he was writing—probably because it was a safe topic of conversation and they both knew that he could carry it for hours without even stopping for breath. “You can read it if you want,” he chuckled at one point. “You made me a lot of money last time.” 

It was easy with Even to pick right back up where they’d left off. The years they’d missed out on sat between them like a blinking neon light, but Even was distracting enough that Isak could ignore them, at least for a little while. 

When Even asked about his own life, Isak told him about the medical schools he’d gotten into: schools in Oslo and London and Rome. He didn’t insinuate anything untoward, but he hoped Even understood what he was saying anyway. _Wherever you want to go, we’ll go._

They had been talking and laughing for over an hour when they were interrupted by the vibration of Even’s cellphone. Isak watched as Even pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the display. He grimaced. 

“Sonja,” he said, pocketing it once more. Isak picked up his drink to give himself more time to think of a reply, but quickly realized that was a mistake because his coffee had long ago gone cold. Even reached out and took the cup from him, their fingers brushing over each other as Isak let him have it. It was the first time they’d touched all day and Isak felt it like an electric shock. As soon as Even had the cup firmly in hand, Isak pulled back, scared that somehow Even would be able to sense his desire through only that small touch. He put both of their coffee cups in the sink after Isak declined a refill and then he sat back down with a sigh. 

“Isak, why are you here?” The sound of his name spoken so reverently on Even’s lips distracted him for only a second before he realized that he actually had to come up with an answer to his question. Why _was_ he here? In a foreign country with no hotel booked because he had been stupid enough to _hope_. 

“I got the picture you sent at Christmas,” he said. _And here I am, choosing you_. “It was beautiful. Have you been back there since…” he trailed off, not wanting to reference their first kiss if it wasn’t something Even wanted to talk about. Even, however, smiled fondly at the memory. 

“No, I haven’t,” he admitted. “I’ve been back to Italy a few times, but never there. It felt wrong, somehow, to go without you.” Isak nodded, understanding completely. Despite how much that place meant to him, he hadn’t been back either. 

He had so many questions about the picture Even had sent him—questions about the reasons he had done it and whether he actually meant what he had written on the back—but he felt that he didn’t have any right to ask them, not when he was the one that had cut off all communication with him. He knew he had to say something, address their shared history somehow, but it was scary, standing up on that cliff alone. It had felt easier before, when he had taken the leap that summer. He had _known_ then, even if he wasn’t willing to admit it to himself, that Even would be there to catch him. He didn’t know that now. He didn’t want to jump and fall flat on his face. 

He was just about to open his mouth and say something (he was _pretty sure_ ) when they were interrupted once more. “Fuck,” Even groaned, pulling his phone back out of his pocket. “Sorry. Let me see what she wants.” He stood from his chair and left the room to answer it. Isak heard only his sharp “What?” of greeting before he disappeared behind his bedroom door. 

Left alone, Isak’s nerves came back in full force. God, what was he doing here? Why had he come? Even had a whole life that didn’t involve him. He didn’t want some kid he had hooked up with half a decade ago bothering him at home. _Then why did he send you the picture? Why would he do that if he didn’t want this too?_

Unable to sit still any longer, Isak wandered the kitchen, taking note of all of the fancy cooking equipment Even owned. He’d told Isak once that he loved to cook, but there had been someone hired to do that at the villa and although he’d promised he would cook for Isak one day, that day still hadn’t come. When he’d looked at everything there was to see and Even still wasn’t back, Isak ducked into the living room and continued his investigating. 

From the living room, he could hear Even’s raised voice drifting in from the next room, but he tried to ignore it, distracting himself by looking at the photos scattered around the room. There was a framed one of Even and Terje with their arms thrown around each other outside of the villa in Italy and another of Isak, sitting with his back to the camera, legs dangling into the crystal clear water of the Valtersens’ pool. Isak had never seen the picture before and wondered if it was Even that took it—it must have been. Who else would have bothered taking a picture of him and then framing it? 

It was only as he moved to the next wall, where a picture of Even and Sonja hung, that Even walked back into the room. He sighed heavily, obviously frustrated from his phone call, but paused just inside the door when he saw what Isak was looking at. His frown deepened. 

“Sorry about that,” he said, shaking his phone for emphasis. “I apparently forgot I already had plans this afternoon.” 

“Oh,” Isak said, straightening from his inspection of the picture and running his fingers through his hair awkwardly. “God, sorry. Yeah, I’ll go.” He had already turned towards the door, his heart heavy in his chest, when Even reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him before he’d taken more than a few steps. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Even chuckled. “I cancelled.” 

Isak felt some of the tension in his shoulders ease when Even didn’t immediately let go of his hand, but he wasn’t sure what else to say, so he turned his gaze back to the picture he’d been examining. “How long have you been together?” he asked because he didn’t know when else he’d get the chance and it seemed as good a segue as any to bring up the fact that Even _did_ have a girlfriend, despite what his note had said at Christmas. 

“No,” Even said, without even bothering to answer. “I don’t want to talk about her.” Isak nodded, fully willing to change the subject, but Even barreled on. “Look, when you stopped answering my calls, when you ran out of that auditorium after you saw your name on the screen, I figured you must be over it. That you’d moved on. Found someone else.” His face was flushing with the intensity of his words and for the first time, probably ever, Isak saw what Even looked like when he was angry. 

“There was never anyone else,” Isak whispered, seeing no reason to lie. He felt a bit like a child being scolded and Even must have sensed that because his face softened. He squeezed Isak’s wrist once in his hand and then dropped it and leaned back against the wall behind him. 

“I never understood why you didn’t want to be together after Italy,” Even said, his voice quieting to match Isak’s. He looked up into his eyes and refused to look away, letting Isak squirm under his gaze. “I tried to make it work, but you just didn’t. And I know you’re young, Isak. I get that. You never wanted to talk about it, so I didn’t, but I just thought that…” He trailed off and took a deep breath. “I just thought that you felt the same way I did.” 

“I did!” Isak argued. “I do.” 

Even chuckled humorlessly and threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “Then what the hell have we been doing for the past four years?” 

Isak swallowed hard. His legs were starting to feel shaky from all of the stress, so he backed up a few feet to sit on the arm of Even’s couch. “It wouldn’t have worked,” he tried, not daring to look up into Even’s eyes. He knew it was a weak excuse, but it was the one he had been feeding himself since that first day he'd let Even’s call go to voicemail. He thought there was more to it than that though. His fear wasn’t necessarily that it wouldn’t work, but that they would try to make it work and wouldn’t be able to. The real world wasn’t a sun-strewn summer in Italy. The real world was hard and Isak didn’t want to start something only to have Even come to him later and decide that he had been wrong. That Isak was too young, too immature, too needy. Even had become a part of him that summer and to have that part reject him now would have ripped him to pieces. “You were here and I was there and—” 

“Bullshit,” Even snapped, surprising Isak enough to look up at him. 

“What?” 

“Bullshit,” Even repeated. He kicked himself off of the wall and crossed to the couch so that he could stand between Isak’s outstretched legs. “You know how I know that’s bullshit?” he asked, his voice once again only a whisper. Isak shook his head stupidly. “Because I still love you just as much today as I did back then. I would have fought for us. I would have made it work. I choose you, Isak.” He took a step closer until their lips were resting only a breath apart. “Choose me.” 

Isak felt the last two words in his soul, like an earthquake, shattering all of the walls he had built around himself to the ground. And although he knew that nothing had been fixed—that they would still be living in different countries until Isak graduated in June, that Even still had a girlfriend—he couldn’t let a call like that go unanswered. So, in that minute, he chose Even, closing the distance between them until their lips met in a fierce kiss. 

It wasn’t soft and sweet or long and desperate. It was hard and unyielding, almost painful in its intensity. There was so much frustration and anger still between them and they fueled it all into that one kiss. 

Isak expected Even to push him away once he had had his fill, much as he had done that day on the cliff, but to his surprise, Even just wrapped Isak’s legs around his waist and picked him up off of the arm of the couch without seeming to expend any effort at all. Isak, startled, tore his lips away from Even’s and laughed at the sheer absurdity of being _carried_ , but Even ignored the humor and began kissing his neck instead, walking them slowly through the living room, kicking open his bedroom door with a loud _thunk_ , and tossing Isak down onto the bed. Only Isak didn’t _know_ that was what was happening, so his legs stayed wrapped around Even’s waist, dragging him down with him. 

The startled look on Even’s face had Isak laughing again and, this time, Even joined him. “Warn me next time,” Isak whispered against Even’s lips and Even nodded, rubbing his nose against Isak’s temple. 

He used his fingertips to trace Isak’s face, his eyebrows and his lips, like he was cataloguing every little change since the last time they had done this. There was a new scar on his chin from where he had passed out at a friend’s party and hit his face on the bathroom sink on the way down. His hair was a shade darker than Even probably remembered since it hadn’t been exposed to the Italian sun in months. His cheekbones were more defined, his jaw more prominent. Even noted every single change, placing soft kisses on his skin like he was greeting the new Isak, but when he had finally tired of that and pressed his lips to Isak’s once more, the kiss was once again hard, like he was searching for something inside of Isak that he wasn’t sure still existed. 

Isak kissed him back with just as much passion and his body was on fire in seconds, not just from lust, but also because he was still wearing a sweater and he wasn’t sure taking it off was an option. He was scared of pushing Even too far, too fast, so he let the older man take the lead. Thankfully, his hands rucked Isak’s sweater up almost immediately so that he could explore the hard planes of his body underneath. But eventually, just touching wasn’t enough. The sweater was thrown to the ground unceremoniously and then Even sat back on his heels, staring down at Isak for a long time. 

Isak’s chest heaved under his attention as he tried to catch his breath, but he didn’t dare move. “Fuck,” Even hissed, reaching out to trace the lines between Isak’s abs. Yeah, that was something he hadn’t had four years ago. His muscles jumped at the touch. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” 

He kissed Isak again, forcing his mouth open so that he could snake his tongue inside, and palmed the front of Isak’s jeans until he was undeniably hard between them. He thought Even probably was too, judging by the way he was grinding against Isak’s thigh. 

“Even,” Isak moaned as the older man began unbuckling his belt. He in no way wanted to stop, but there was a picture of a girl that he supposedly loved on his bedside table and Isak didn’t want to be a regret. “Are you sure you want to—?” 

“I didn’t know the last time would be the last time,” he said, drawing back so that he could peel Isak’s jeans off of his legs. It wasn’t easy as they were the tightest pair Isak owned. He’d worn them to make his ass look good. When Even finally got them off, he tossed them to the floor angrily and then slithered up Isak’s body so that he was looking him in the eyes. Then, without prompting, he repeated back to Isak the words that he had told him long ago. “I just want to enjoy this one last night with you and if that’s all we ever have, maybe it’ll be enough.” 

_It won’t be_ , Isak decided. _One night will never be enough._

Isak was completely naked before he found the courage to start stripping Even as well. His hands sought out the hem of Even’s shirt tentatively, but Even didn’t object as he pulled it over his head. In fact, he gave him the dopiest smile, like he hadn’t actually believed that Isak wanted to do this. That, more than anything, steeled Isak’s nerves. If he really did only get one more night, he was going to make it worth it. 

Isak stripped Even of his clothes quickly, needing to feel his bare skin against him, needing it to ground him, to keep him from exploding from anticipation alone. He took some pride in seeing Even’s cock hard against his stomach, looking almost purple he was so aroused, but he knew he wasn’t faring much better. Every touch of his fingers, every kiss of his lips, brought Isak closer to the edge until he was ready to just let go without any stimulation at all. 

Even paused what they were doing to reach for something in his bedside table and when he returned, his fingers were coated in lube. He found Isak’s rim and ran his a finger around it gently, silently asking _Is this okay? Is this what you want?_ Isak nodded and then delighted in the burn as Even pressed one finger inside of him. It took a while to stretch him out, but Even was patient, never rushing, kissing his hips, telling him to breathe, taking care of him, just as he’d always promised that he would. 

He was so used to it being just the two of them—with nothing between them—that he wasn’t even thinking about needing a condom until Even grabbed one. It dampened the mood a bit—they both felt it—but they were too keyed up to even think about stopping. Even rolled the condom on clumsily, his hands shaking slightly under Isak’s attention, and then he situated himself at Isak’s entrance, pressing just the tip inside before pausing and locking eyes with Isak as he thrust the rest of the way in. 

It hurt, in the same way it hurt the first time they had done this, only this time Isak welcomed the pain—needed it, even, to feel whole once more. Even let out a pitiful moan and buried his face into Isak’s neck, not really kissing, but just licking at the skin wetly, and then began thrusting into Isak’s body slowly. He allowed Isak time to get used to the feel of having something inside of him again, but when Isak was comfortable, grabbing Even’s ass and egging him on, Even picked up his speed and began pounding into him hard. It was like they both knew, without speaking, that this was something they wanted to be able to feel for days afterwards—weeks, if they could manage it. 

Despite the fact that Isak wanted to stay intimately connected to Even forever, he didn’t last long— _couldn’t_ last long, not with the unrelenting way Even was grinding into him, bringing him more pleasure than he had felt in his entire life. The pressure inside of him built until it was boiling over, and Isak dug his fingernails into Even’s back to try to channel it somewhere. He would only realize later that leaving a mark on a man that was not yours probably wasn’t a good thing, but Even had belonged to him for years, ever since they had become one person that night in his bedroom, and the passage of time didn’t change that. His _girlfriend_ didn’t change that. Until the end of time, Isak would be Even’s and Even would be his. 

He came sooner than he would have liked, making sure that Even’s name was on his lips. Even stroked him through it, prolonging his pleasure, and by the time Isak swatted him away, he could tell that Even was approaching his own climax. His rhythm faltered, his thrusts deepened, and he buried his nose in Isak’s neck, seeking comfort that Isak was more than willing to give. 

When Even’s orgasm hit, his body went limp and he crashed into Isak, whispering his name over and over like a prayer. “Isak, Isak, Isak.” 

Once he pulled out, they clung to each other like two men adrift, Even’s head cradled against Isak’s chest as Isak ran his fingers through his sweat-damp hair. Isak watched in wonder as Even’s eyes began to flutter closed, marveling at the fact that Even felt so comfortable in his arms that he would allow him to see that kind of vulnerability. 

“Do you want me to leave?” Isak whispered, brushing Even’s hair off of his forehead. He didn’t want to leave—didn’t even want to ask the question—but he also didn’t want to wake up to awkwardness in the morning. 

Even didn’t bother opening his eyes, just shook his head. “Stay,” he mumbled, already half-asleep. “Stay forever.” 

* 

Isak was surprised to wake and find that he had ever managed to sleep at all. Even on his best nights, it still took him hours to get to sleep and when he finally did, he slept fitfully, waking up every few hours because something inside of him just wouldn’t settle. It was particularly bad in strange places. His body, however, must have known that Even wasn’t a stranger—that he was the closest thing to a home that Isak had. 

He wasn’t sure what woke him until he heard a phone vibrating against Even’s hardwood floor, but he couldn’t reach down to get it because Even was still asleep on his chest, trapping him. Isak didn’t mind though. He just lay there and watched him breath for several long minutes, praying that it wouldn’t be the last time he ever saw him like this. 

It was only as the phone started vibrating _again_ that Isak tore his gaze away. Very carefully, he rolled Even off of him, pleased when he just snuggled closer into the pillows without waking. Isak leaned over the side of the bed and rifled through the clothes scattered onto the floor until he found the vibrating phone in the pocket of Even’s jeans. He had only planned to put it on silent so that the vibration wouldn’t wake Even, but it was impossible to miss who was calling: Sonja. Fuck. 

A dark pit formed in his stomach and he suddenly felt sick. He had let himself forget that even though he was here, choosing Even, Even wasn’t free to make that same decision for himself. Not now. Isak sighed heavily and placed the phone on Even’s bedside table as he stood and began searching for his clothes strewn around the room. 

Once he dressed, he walked to Even’s side of the bed and kneeled next to him, pushing his hair out of his eyes. When that didn’t wake him, Isak decided to take a risk, leaned forward, and placed a feather-light kiss on his lips—just in case it was the last time he ever got to do so—then he stood and pulled from his pocket the reason he had come to London in the first place. 

He stared down at the picture Even had painted him and let it fill his heart with warmth. He didn’t want to leave it, but he didn’t know how else to get his message across, so he set it on the pillow where he had lain his head the night before, and he fled, thinking all the while about the words he had scribbled on the back, right under Even’s: _I will choose you, Even Bech Næsheim, always and forever. Choose me._ And underneath that he had written a time and a date—the four-year anniversary of their first kiss. 

_I’ll be waiting._

* 

The summer sun was beating down on Isak as he biked to the cliffs. He had only been in Italy for a couple of days, so he hadn’t yet had a chance to get used to the heat, but he couldn’t stand the thought of driving to such a sacred place because that’s not what he had done the first time. So he let the sun stain his skin, let the sweat pour down his face, and told himself that soon, none of that was going to matter. Soon, Even would be there, choosing him, always and forever, and they would finally get their happy ending. 

Hopefully. 

He left his bike hidden in the same copse of trees he had years before and stepped out to stare down at the rolling hills of Tuscany that looked the very same now as they had then. And he saw them there, laying together in the green grass—the ghosts of two young men in love. Two men who didn’t know that what they would do that day would change the course of their lives forever. That they were about to become different people—or, more aptly, they were about to become each other. Their hearts would soon beat as one and not a day would go by in the years that followed that they wouldn’t think back on what had happened here with the kind of nostalgia that was so sweet it stung. 

Isak didn’t dare look down at his watch, didn’t dare watch the tree line. His heart had been beating out a nervous rhythm since he woke up that morning (and if he was being honest, for months even before that) and he knew that if he let it, the anticipation would bury him. He hadn’t yet decided how long he would wait for Even to show, but he thought he would probably wait atop that cliff forever, where at least the ghost of him remained. 

Only a few minutes later, Isak heard the crunch of a twig behind him and his heart stopped in his chest. Although every muscle in his body was screaming at him to turn around—to face his future—he found that he was frozen. What if it wasn’t Even? What if it was just an animal walking along the underbrush? What if he hadn’t actually heard anything at all? But then there was another snap and another, and Isak couldn’t ignore the reality any longer. He turned, tears already welling in his eyes, and there he saw him, back in shorts and a thin, cotton shirt, his hair blowing in the wind, smiling so widely that Isak knew it had to be burning his cheeks. 

Even. _His_ Even. He came. 

He ran to him, like people did in the movies, and wrapped his arms tightly around his neck, holding him close, whispering promises to never let him go. He pulled back just enough to look into Even’s eyes and couldn’t help but grin like an idiot, nosing along Even’s face like a kitten, trying to convince himself that this was really happening. “I love you,” he said, his voice straining under the weight of the words, and although it was the first time he had ever said it aloud, it was the one fundamental truth that made Isak who he was. Without that, he wasn’t sure what he would be. 

“God,” Even cried, pulling Isak into a hard kiss. “I love you too.” 

He was crying—they both were—because it seemed impossible somehow that a six-week romance had changed them so completely that they would be unrecognizable to the boys who had stood in their place exactly four years ago. So they kissed and they cried and they dried each other’s tears, surrounded by the ghosts of who they once were. 

And although Isak couldn’t see them yet, there were other ghosts there too—ghosts of what was to come. There was an Isak and Even standing with their hands clasped together as Isak’s father read the vows that would bind them for life. There was an Isak and Even running around, laughing as they tried to wrangle two small, blonde children into their arms. There was an Isak and Even, decades older, with gray starting to color their hair, still just as much in love as they had been the summer they met. 

When they finally left that place, fingers laced tightly together, they left behind the ghosts of their past and the ghosts of their future and stepped forward into their endless summer, hearts beating forever in time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, this fic has been so cathartic to write, so I hope it has been just as enjoyable to read. Thanks to everyone for all of the comments and kudos - they seriously make me the happiest person in the world! I hope the ending lived up to all of your expectations <3


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